


Golden Peepers

by Zeeexp



Series: Chromatix [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Ambiguous Relationships, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cardverse, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Guns, Little bit of video game mechanics, Magic, Mild Gore, Minecraft, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potions, Sleepyboisinc - Freeform, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 62,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeeexp/pseuds/Zeeexp
Summary: Aces are one of the most powerful beings in existence. Their only purpose? To serve the Kingdoms they were sent to, for as long as the Magic that sent them required them to. Lifespans of an Ace could vary, from as short as a few years to a few millenium. Where did Aces go after they died? No one knows, but one thing's for sure: they don't show up again.George is just a simple villager minding his own business, before Dream, the Ace of Spades swept into his life like a hurricane. He casually announces that George has to come with him and drags him on hundreds of close shaves with death.George doesn't know how long he'll live, at this rate.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, DanTDM/Jemma, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hosuh Lee & Stephen Ng, Stephen Ng & Gavin Ng, Technoblade & Clay | Dream, Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Series: Chromatix [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985774
Comments: 43
Kudos: 206





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew, okay! This is the first youtube crossover fic I've done, and one of the ones where I actually like where the story is going. A few things that I'm going to make clear:
> 
> 1\. All the people in this story are real, but I've just made use of their personas. I do not wish to dox anyone.  
> 2\. This work is purely fictitious and is just an unholy combination of my obsession with MCYT and creativity juices flowing at the wrong time.  
> 3\. If you see a character you like and they're the villain, please, for the love of god, don't spam the comments or whatever, saying that they aren't like that. Yes. I know. That's why it's fictitious work.  
> 4\. This involves very real people with very real lives. If they want me to remove this fic, I will do so without hesitation. 
> 
> I don't like laying down rules, but I think this requires a serious note.
> 
> Having said all that, let's get this! :D

"Mama, tell me a story!" 

"Alright, my sweet. Which story would you like?" 

"The one about the super cool person! You know, the Ace!" 

"You've heard that one a thousand times already, are you sure you don't want another story?" A woman with long flowing tresses of dark brown hair sat down beside the small child, laying her head on a pillow of moss and staring up at the night sky. 

"Please, mama. I want that story." 

"Alright, my love," the woman chuckled, pointing towards the sky, where the stars twinkled. "Long ago, when the stars were naught but babies, was Magic. This is magic with a capital letter 'M', love. Now, Magic was sentient, and it was helpful in nature. When humans wanted fire, it taught them how to make it. When humans needed shelter, it carved caves for them. And when humans needed leading, it helped them." 

"How, mama how?" The little boy curled into the woman's side, staring up at the sky in wonder. 

"Patience, love. I'm getting there. So Magic created four beings, to helm four Kingdoms. Can you guess what they are?" 

"Diamonds, Clover, Hearts, and...I forget." 

"Spades, darling. Our kingdom. Those four beings were called Aces, and they would select a King, a Queen and a Jack every generation. They weren't blessed by Magic like the Queens, or born to rule like the Kings, or intelligent like a Jack. But they owned a special brand of magic. They could communicate with Magic itself." 

"Mama, are you an Ace?" 

"No, love. I'm not. These Aces are far more powerful than me, a simple witch. Primordial power runs in their veins, and no one could compete with the likes of them. That is, until the first Ace died. Do you remember his name?" 

"Ooh, ooh! I know this one! He's called-!" 

"That's right. We haven't had an Ace in generations. But I believe our Ace has been alive since the beginning of time. He's out there, watching. Waiting." 

"Mama?" 

"Yes, love?" 

"Do you think I can be the next Ace?" 

"I don't think it, I know you will be the greatest Ace, my little Clay." 


	2. Spawnpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which George has an absolutely horrendous streak of luck.

Techno didn't know why he was awake. It was an ungodly hour, one where no one should even be awake. So why was he? He sat up in bed, scanning his surroundings closely. His king sized bed dominated the bedroom, and the heavy velvet drapes blocked the moonlight from entering. He reached over and tugged on the chain of the painted glass lamp, illuminating his immediate area in a buttery warm light. He slid out of bed, wrapping a bathrobe around him and shuffling towards the drapes, a moonlit balcony beckoning him.

But something stopped him.

Techno reached over to his bedside, withdrawing a long, sapphire blade. Waves of purple rippled up and down the blade, and the entire sword glowed with heat. He held it loosely, stepping out onto the balcony.

A series of things happened at once.

The doors slammed shut behind him, and Techno ducked. Something whistled past his ear, clipping his head and embedding itself into the marble railing. His entire body lit up, brilliant and blinding. He raised his sword, just in time to block a vicious swipe to his head. Immediately, the pressure on his sword disappeared, and the light faded away.

"I was just having a good sleep, so this better be good, green man."

"..."

The white mask smiled at him, and Techno looked at the weapon that nearly removed his head. A light blue axe, rippling with enchantments so powerful it crackled the air around it.

"Did you steal that?"

Dream angled the axe so that the moonlight caught on the words carved onto the blade.

'Dream slayer'

Techno actually chuckled at the irony. "Have they started hunting you down yet, or do we have time for a spar?"

By way of response, Dream hefted his axe and laughed that signature wheeze of his.

* * *

"Are you kidding me? He's gone? Again?" BadBoyHalo sighed, rubbing his temples. Calm down, calm down. The knights did nothing wrong. He groaned inwardly.

This wasn't the first time Dream had gone missing. Their enigmatic Ace loved going on these night time trips of his, and he usually left clues to where he was going. When he was heading towards the beach, Bad had found a disgruntled seagull and its nest on his office table. Towards the Forest, a pile of sticks and leaves unique to that area only. The cliffs, a pile of sand and rocks. This time, he'd received nothing, except for a singular potato sitting on his table. But where in the world did that mean?

"Maybe I should try contact Wilbur? He might know something," Sapnap piped up, sitting straighter on his throne. He had black circles ringing his eyes, and his clothes were slightly dishevelled.

"Just try, although I don't think Wilbur would know anything about Dream," Bad leaned forward as Sapnap conjured up a screen, linking his magic to Wilbur's. They waited expectantly until the screen rippled and a distinctly harassed looking Wilbur appeared. Unusually, he was in full military regalia. They must be having a raid from the orcs.

"Oh hey Sapnap."

"Hey Wilbur! Could you get Tommy here?"

"Sure. TOMMY!! Someone's here to see you."

"Who is it? We're a little busy."

"Tommy! How's it going?"

"Hmm, not much, just that your Ace and our King have been sparring for the past hour while our kingdom is being fucking raided! At this rate, our kingdom will be in ruins!" Tommy's voice rose into a hysterical shriek that made the room's Royals wince.

"Oh my god. We've been such muffinheads! Potatoes! Hearts is the largest producer of agriculture, especially potatoes!" Bad slapped his hand to his forehead, scolding himself internally. "Sapnap, let's go!"

* * *

"That all you've got, Dream? You're not even close." Techno brandished his blade at the tiny lime coloured figure on the roof. He leapt up onto the roof, balancing on the slippery shingles. He eyed the other, shifting his sword to his other hand. He was starting to regret wearing his bathrobe, unlike Dream, who was attired in his green poncho and mask. Dream shifted, his mask turning towards the ground.

"Dream! Get down here!"

Techno glanced down at the ground, where two tiny figures waved frantically. "Looks like they found you. What did you give them this time?"

Dream reached into his poncho and tossed a fist-sized something to Techno. He caught it and turned it around.

"A potato? That's pretty vague, I'm surprised they could figure it out," Techno commented, sliding off the shingles. This was the drill: They would fight until the Spade's Royals came for Dream, then call it a day. Pink was dusting the horizon; it was dawn already.

"Helloo," Techno called out, landing on his balcony. Behind, Dream landed on the railing and pulled out the arrow, raising it in a silent greeting. Bad and Sapnap wore twin looks of exasperation as they ran forward and began berating their Ace.

"Hi, Your Majesty," Sapnap said, distinctly out of breath. Techno waved the title aside.

"Just Techno is fine. Don't call me Your Majesty, it makes me feel like I'm just in it for the clout." he was going to say something else before Tommy and Wilbur rushed forwards. Both were covered in soot, and Wilbur's tricorn hat was smouldering slightly.

"Techno, the village farms have been pillaged, and the potatoes are ruined. We might not get a harvest this year." Wilbur waved towards the village. They turned towards Dream, but he just stared back blankly.

"Dream..."Techno's voice had danger laced into it, and the masked Ace stepped back, shaking his head. "Wilbur, Tommy, get to the fields and try to repair anything you can. I'll be along soon to help." The two Royals nodded and set off.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" Techno asked.

"Get back home, lock the Ace back up and take that axe away from him," Bad listed, counting on his fingers. His halo changed colour, from blinding white to a dark blue.

"Lock him up? Has it ever occurred to you that he might be searching for a Royal?"

Bad and Sapnap exchanged looks.

"I highly doubt so. Dream found us the moment we heard an Ace had been found. If there was a fourth Royal, he would have found them already," Sapnap supplied. With that, they turned around and marched Dream through the portal Sapnap had conjured up.

Techno watched the portal wink out, a cloud of pale orange sparkles fading away. "Maybe..."

* * *

"I don't know how long we can go without the King, Bad!"

"Sapnap, Dream hasn't found anyone! That means there isn't a King!"

"We're literally the only Kingdom without a King! And our Ace is going crazy; we keep posting guards, and he keeps breaking out! Right now, you're the only person who's handling the assignments!"

Dream turned away from the door and sat down to think. It wasn't true, what they said about the missing King. Dream did sense the King. But every time he tried to find them, he inevitably ended up in the Forest. Unless their King was in the woods somewhere, there was no way they could be in there.

He flexed his fingers, watching the threads trailing from them float in some invisible wind. He stood up and flicked his hand towards the wall, sending threads digging into the cobblestone. Bracing himself, he stepped onto the wall, curling his fingers into the tiny crevices. It was all an act, of course. The threads could let him hang upside down from one, if he wanted to. He recalled what the other Royals thought of his power. They wrongly assumed he had super speed and strength, and Dream had no intention to correct them. Let them think that; it just meant that he had the element of surprise if he ever needed to confront them. He continued up the wall, hooking his fingers into a crack in the ceiling.

"Dream? Hello?" Bad walked in, looking around the empty room. He looked like an ant, and Dream realised how high he was. The Ace's tower had very high ceilings, and Dream usually went upwards. He released the strings, dropping down silently. At the last moment, he twitched his fingers, letting the threads arrest his fall. He stepped off and tapped Bad on his shoulder, sending the Jack leaping a foot into the air.

"God! Don't scare me like that." Bad put a hand to his chest. "So, I've been thinking about what His- Techno said. Is it true? Have you found the fourth Royal?"

Dream noted the sliver of hope embedded in those words. They were hoping for a fourth Royal. And Dream wanted to say yes, he'd found the missing Royal. God, how desperately he wanted to. But it would fill them with false hope. Lies always did. And Dream knew what lies could lead to. So instead, he shrugged and watched as Bad's shoulders slumped into a shape resembling despair.

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to tell you that the King of Diamonds is coming, and you're supposed to be present. He's coming in a day's time." Bad lingered by the door, before nodding and leaving, clicking the door shut.

Dream looked towards the barred window, towards the Forest beyond. Inexorably, he felt a pull towards there. He climbed the rafters, pushing a section of the roof away and pulling it over the hole again. He stood on the roof of the Ace's tower, and jumped.

* * *

George looked down at the steep ravine. Below, a vein of iron glimmered in the sunlight, beckoning him. It was taunting him. He looked around, spotting a tiny trail. Actually, calling it a trail would be generous. It was more like a shallow scrape in the stone. But George shifted the basket on his back, secured his pick strapped to his side, and started to feel his way down. Pebbles skittered down the path, and George slipped and skidded down with them. Finally, he reached the vein. Up close, it was bigger. Good, it'd fetch a hefty price from the blacksmith (he could haggle for a few apples, maybe? A loaf of bread!).

A deep growl startled him, and he huddled into a crevice. He pulled his goggles down, blinking the sun spots out of his vision. A huge silhouette shadowed the ravine, and George could hear snuffling. He barely dared to breath until the shadow retreated. He exhaled shakily, sliding down the wall. This was the disadvantage of foraging in the Forest. Legends had said that it was created by the first four Queens, and it was teeming with magical creatures.

Quickly, he sped out and dug his pick into the iron, mining as much as he could carry. With furtive glances at the lip of the ravine, he scrabbled out of the crack and sped home. In his haste, he didn't see the figure stalking him through the trees.

Well, not until he hit a tree root. He crashed into the dirt, yelping in pain. George checked himself over, sighing in relief when he found no major injuries. He looked up, straight into the slavering jaws of a hungry animal. It was huge, eclipsing the sun. Fluorescent wisps of dark purple clung to its fur, and its eyes were a filmy yellow. Thick ropes of saliva hung from teeth as thick as his arms, and its breath-God, it smelt like rancid meat in the summer.

George's feet dug furrows in the ground as he tried to push himself back. Looking down, he realised one of its claws had gone straight through his trouser leg, pinning him to the ground. He tore it out, backing up until his back hit damp wood; a rotten log.

He was well and truly stuck.

The beast seemed to know, and it leered at him as it loped closer, muscle and sinew rippling under the black fur. It lunged forward, and George threw his arms up, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the excruciating pain. When nothing came, he cracked an eyelid. Something-or someone-had pulled him from the literal mouth of the beast.  
He opened his eyes.

A bright yellow figure stood in front of him, an absolutely monstrous axe in their hand. George's eyes widened. It was enchanted, and heavily. It would sell for five thousand tales, maybe six. The figure turned slightly, revealing a white mask. It had a badly drawn smile on it, but it seemed...alive, somehow.

"I'm fine," George said out loud.

The figure turned back and swung the axe, and George looked away. There was a yelp, and rustling. When George looked back, the beast was retreating back into the woods. The figure tucked the axe into a pouch on their back and crouched down, making no move to help George.

"I-I'm George," he stuttered. The figure visibly recoiled, before regaining his (George had decided he was a male) composure. He looked down and prodded George's leg. A wave of pain crashed through him, and George screamed. "You can't just poke me like that! It hurts!"

He swiped the hand away from his leg and inspected it. Just a scratch from the claws, nothing major. He pulled himself up and put his arms on his waist, despite feeling like his leg was being beaten by a burning metal poker.

  
"See, I'm fine!"

Then, his vision went black.

* * *

Dream stared at the unconscious George. Unbelievable. Did he not know that his leg was poisoned? The muffinhead even stood on it! That complicated things. He skilfully manipulated the threads, cocooning him in a glimmering bundle of light green. He tied the end of the thread to his waist and set off, hopping over logs and such. He reached a small cave, and after a quick look around, deemed it suitable for human inhabiting. He laid George down and set off to find herbs for his leg. And maybe dinner. Dinner sounded great.

Dream continued thinking of George, even while picking herbs. What was a villager doing so far out in the Forest? It was dangerous here, and he didn't even have a weapon. Well, except for that pick. Maybe he was gathering materials and got lost. He was moving on autopilot, grinding up berries and roots and wrapping the mixture in leaves. He rested the poultice on the infected part and stepped back, eyeing the pouch critically. Shoddy work, but not bad for something done on short notice. He then set off to retrieve the eccentric villager's basket and dinner.

* * *

George's first thought was: where am I? His second thought was a vaguely worried one about why his mouth tasted like scummy well water. He sat up, a shattered groan forcing its way past his chapped lips. He seemed to be in a cave of some sorts, but it was so dark, he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. George suddenly realised that his goggles were still on, and pushed them up onto his forehead.

The ground was covered in a sprinkling of lichen, and the ceiling sloped gently to the ground, forming a little alcove sheltered from the elements.

Someone had put something on his wound, cooling the burning feeling and replacing it with an itch that made George want to attack it with sandpaper. He heard and smelt the crackle and pop of a campfire and the smell of something cooking and scooted towards it eagerly.

Bad move.

His entire leg erupted into pain so intense it made George see stars for a moment. He screeched and his arms gave out, leaving him on the floor breathing like he'd just run a footrace. The ground shook slightly, and that white masked man peeked in from the outside of the cave. He strode over and checked George's leg, ignoring his whimpers and instead opening the poultice. There was a sound of ripping fabric, and George looked down to see his leg and nearly fainted.

His leg was swollen, and mottled purple and blue and yellow. He squinted closer. No, it was green. The sight of his leg in that state made him want to throw up.

"Am I going to die?" He whispered hoarsely.

The figure put a cup down at George's side and stared at the wound. After a while, he slowly shook his head, and George sighed in relief. He reached for the cup and drained it, relishing the cold spring water running down his parched throat. When he looked down again, the masked man had already bandaged his leg with proper wrappings, and George could smell antiseptic salve.

Okay, so the man was rich. He could afford fancy salve, which accounted to something, right? George inspected the bandage. Linen, with a smidge of essential oil dabbed onto it. "Who are you?" George wondered out loud.

"Dream."

George barely caught it, and he had to process the word several times to remember it. "Dream?"

"Hi George."

Dream's voice was hoarse, like he'd been screaming for hours. But there was a certain undertone that George couldn't quite catch. He dismissed it and scooted closer to the fire, letting the heat seep into his bones. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dream was staring intently at him.

"What? What are you looking at?" George demanded.

"Your eyes." Came the reply.

George didn't know how his eyes looked. That might've sounded silly, but when people flinched away from you when you removed your glasses, or stared with a mixture of horror, sympathy and disgust, it makes you reluctant to look in a mirror. "What about my eyes?"

"What happened to your eyes?"

Wow, way to go. George winced at the bluntness, but he shrugged as a way of answer. "I don't know. As long as I can remember, I've always been like this." He paused, trying to cobble his courage together for his question. "How does it look like? It might be stupid, but I've never dared to look in a mirror."

Dream stared into the crackling fire, gathering his thoughts. George's eyes were milky white, and the skin around them was scarred terribly, pockmarked blue and purple. "It looks bad. Your eyes are white, and the skin around them are burned. It's all blue and purple."

George's lip curled, and he fingered the goggles propped up in his hair. "So that's why people wince when they see me."

"Can't you get a healer to take a look at it?"

"Do I look like I have the money to afford a healer?"

Dream flicked his eyes down to the faded blue shirt, the worn denim pants and the scuffed boots. "The Capital? You could ask Ba- the Jack, or the Queen." He picked up one of the two wooden skewers on the fire, handing it to George. He picked up the other one and shifted his mask upwards, blowing on the rabbit before gingerly taking a bite out of it.

"I could. But it's a long way to the Capital, and I don't have any reason to go," George mumbled, his mouth full to the bursting with rabbit.

"Slow down or you'll choke."

"I do what I want." But George did slow down, taking smaller bites.

Dream wondered what had drawn him to the Forest. The dungeons? No, the magic was very docile today. He eyed George. Was it because of him? He decide to test it out. He twitched his fingers, throwing glowing green lines across the fire towards George.

He didn't even flinch, although that might've been because no one but Dream could see the threads. Although the strings were his power, no one truly controlled their own power. He could feel the magic humming and pulsing out in waves, weaving new threads as fast as the old ones were being destroyed.

"Dream, are you using magic?"

Dream started. How did George know? He watched as George reached out, his fingers brushing the threads. The threads detached from Dream's fingers and spooled around George's hand, settling down like a shimmering glove. "You can see it?"

George frowned. "Of course I can see it." His expression changed into something different, something akin to panic. "Can't you?"

Dream inhaled and set his rabbit down, the meat cold and long forgotten. "I think you need to make a trip to the Capital with me."

* * *

"Dream! DREAM OH MY GOD SOMETHING'S HERE AND IT'S GOING TO KILL ME."

"For the last time, I'm a human! And kindly show some respect, you-"

Dream shot upright in his bed, his hand reaching for his mask instinctively. It wasn't by his bed. Panic rose in him, and he quickly swept his surroundings. So far, George was outside, screaming bloody hell. He finally located his mask (it was on an outcropping of rock!) and secured it on his face and stepped out to face the day.

George was crouching on a tree branch, pointing down at Bad and screaming incoherently. The recipient of the screams looked over at Dream and shouted to be heard over the din.

  
"Dream! There's a feral villager in the tree, and I'm here to tell you-" his voice rose as George's screams continued. "THAT THE KING IS HERE."

Dream nodded and pointed to George. "Permission to deal with him?"

Bad sighed and pinched his brow, walking away from the tree. "Yes please, he's going to tear his own vocal cords at this rate."

Dream waved to George, and he paused.

"Dream...” George whined, sliding down the tree. “Who’s that? I heard you talking with him.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you can hear anything over your own screams,” Dream commented drily. “I know him, and he is a human too, understand?”

“He’s a human? But he looks terrifying!”

“You’ll find that there are a lot of eccentric people in the Capital. Speaking of which, you’re coming with me.” And Dream reached up and picked George up by the back of his shirt. George hung from his grip, swinging helplessly.

"What? Why? What's going on?"

Dream pursed his lips under his mask. Finally, he settled on: "Just follow me, alright?"

"No."

"Sorry?"

"I mean, no, I'm not going with you. I've still got loose ends to tie up." George scratched at the glowing green glove of magic, looking down at the dirt.

Dream reached over, and George visibly flinched. "Relax, I'm just taking back what's mine," he laughed, curling his fingers around the magic on George's arm. It unspooled and slipped back into Dream, practically singing with happiness at being reunited.

"Okay, but I think you left something," George said, inspecting his wrist. A single thread of magic was looped around his wrist like a bangle, and it pulsed rhythmically.

"It's a tracking device." Dream showed George his own wrist, an identical bangle ringing his own wrist. "That's to see if you make good on your promise. I expect to see you at the Capital soon, you hear me?" Dream called back, already walking back with Bad. George waved and disappeared into the forest, the foliage obscuring him from sight.

"So is that who you sensed?" Bad asked, turning to him. Dream avoided his gaze, partly because he felt like he needed to spill his guts out every time he stared into those empty glowing eyes, and partly because he didn't want to give him hope.

"Who knows."


	3. Advancement made: Local Brewery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potion making, anyone?

DanTDM fiddled with the hem of his cloak absently. He was seated in a large meeting room with most of the people missing from it. Except the Queen. The Jack had excused himself on personal business, something about searching for their Ace.

Their Ace, Dan mused to himself, was an interesting character. He seemed to never be present at meetings, always gallivanting off somewhere. Just then the doors burst open, revealing the Jack and who Dan supposed was the Ace.

"Sorry for the tardiness, Your Majesty! I had to find and capture this muffinhead," The Jack gasped, leaning on the Ace's shoulder.

Dan took this opportunity to take his first look at the Ace. He was clothed in a poncho that reached to his knees and knee high boots. He had fingerless gloves on, and a white mask with a smile that completely covered his face. The Ace turned to look at him, and Dan couldn't help but feel like a dangerous animal had just brushed past him.

That man was probably one of the most dangerous people on this continent.

They all took a seat, except for the Ace, who leant against a wall hidden in shadows. The Queen cleared his throat. "Right, thank you for visiting on such short notice, You Majesty. We've called you here to inquire about the gems you've been sending over."

"Is there anything wrong with them? I'll have Jemma look into the gem cutting; something might've gotten mixed up," Dan asked.

The Queen shook his head. "I've been detecting trace amounts of magic on them, and what's more, the magic seems to be some sort of spell, split apart."

The room fell silent at this development. Magic gems were usually found in the Forest dungeons only, so this could only mean one thing.

"There's a dungeon under Diamonds, isn't there? The magic is leaking out and diffusing into the minerals," Dan spoke up, his face unusually sombre. This meant that they would have to stop mining until they found the dungeon, lest some unfortunate miner fall into a roiling storm of magic, which meant that their output of jewels was going to drop. Drastically.

"Couldn't you just send Dream into the dungeon? God knows he's done so many of these, he could do them in his sleep," the Queen piped up, snapping his fingers. Each snap set off a mini explosion which stopped mid-explode and rewound back into his fingers. 

"That's different. Even if Dan gave his approval, there would be too much red tape to cross. Technically, we are the only Kingdom qualified to enter these, and what if this dungeon is only the beginning? What if other kingdoms start finding them? Would you ask Dream to enter every single one?" The Jack fired back, crossing his arms.

"So the problem here is that there's too much interference?" The Ace suddenly spoke. Dan jumped. He'd forgotten the man was even there.

The Jack frowned. "Well yes, but-"

"I can do it. I just need Dan's approval. I won't get caught." He moved forward from the wall, walking over to the table. The mask stared straight at Dan, the gaze burning into Dan's eyes. "Are you okay with this, Your Majesty?"

"I-" Dan swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. "Yes. I'm fine with it." The Ace stretched his hand out and when he spoke again, Dan swore he could hear the tiniest hint of a smirk in it.

"Pleasure to work with you, Your Majesty." He stood up abruptly and made for the door, almost running now. "This is a solo mission, and if anyone gets in my way I won't hesitate to run them through," He called back.

* * *

Dream could feel excitement buzzing through him, setting his senses alight. He hadn't been on a mission in so long. Maybe it was because he kept running away. He made for his tower, pulling aside the fake bookshelf he'd constructed and smiling wickedly. A massive diamond axe hung on a hook, its blade crackling and sparking with enchantments. Runes spiraled off the blade and disintegrated, and its name was engraved on the blade: Dream Slayer.

He pulled it off its hook and hefted it, feeling the magic in his own veins singing to the enchantments, and the latter responding back in turn. He strapped a thin quiver of crossbow bolts onto his thigh, along with a crossbow which he secured tightly on his back. A dozen small knives were slotted into hidden sheaths everywhere on his being, and an empty potion belt was filled with potions. Strength and invisibility. After a heartbeat, he added a potion of regeneration.

Finally, Dream turned to go-only to be blocked by Bad. Despite just watching their Ace arm himself to the teeth with dangerous knick knacks, he stood there resolutely, arms folded.

"You're not going. I talked it over with Sapnap, and we're in agreement," Bad said, setting his face into a stern one. He was mildly successful.

Dream was agitated. He could already smell the cloying sweet scent of magic calling him, beckoning him and just begging to be plumbed. He glanced out of the door and pointed. Oldest trick in the book, and Bad fell for it. He started to turn, looking out the doorway. That was all Dream needed.

Dream dashed for the window, vaulting out of the tower and twisting so he was falling headfirst. He swiped his hands in front of him, and the threads responding, crisscrossing themselves and forming a net, arresting some of his motion. Again and again, he yanked at the threads, creating a complicated pattern of strings which he stepped on, alighting on each one for less than a second until he reached the ground.

He looked back up, waving at the tiny figure shaking his fist at Dream and set off at a brisk pace, using the threads to speed him up. Next stop, Diamonds.

* * *

George glanced at his wrist for the hundredth time, watching the bright yellow magic spiral around his arm. To anyone else, it would be like he was staring at his skin. He adjusted his stack of firewood, feeling splinters bite into his palms. Rounding the edge of the house, the tiny woodshed huddled beside the exterior of the kitchen wall, and George deposited the wood there, dusting off the splinters embedded in his arms and hands. He made his way into the tiny house he called his home, staring at the meagre accommodations.

Not for the first time, he wondered how life would be if he found Dream in the Capital. He was rich, so he probably had a house with all sorts of fancy things like fountains and nicely cut bushes. As in response, the bracelet flashed once, twice and blinked. It started tugging against his skin, straining to go somewhere. George glared at it.

"Stop!" He hissed at it, pulling it back onto his wrist. Again, the magic yanked hard on his skin, actually drawing blood this time. "Ow!"

"George? You okay?" Skeppy poked his head out from the kitchen, the diamond patches on his skin winking and sparkling in the setting sun and turning the jewels into mottled patterns of fire.

Skeppy was a mage originally from Diamonds. He was a businessman, but fled to Spades when he went bust and had to run from the debt collectors. He had gotten involved with some unsavory people, and George had provided him with a place to stay.

George nodded and waved Skeppy away. "The splinters got me bad, that's all." he attempted a smile.

Skeppy squinted, clearly buying none of George's half-hearted lying, but knowing him enough that he dropped the subject. "Alright. I'm going to the Capital later this week, you wanna go?"

"No, I'll stay. Maybe next time." George glanced down at his wrist, which was dripping blood at this point. He inched towards the bathroom, hiding his hand behind his back. "I need to go to the bathroom, so bye!" Quickly, he darted into the bathroom and locked the door, turning on the tap and sticking his hand under the ice cold water.

Glaring at the magic still tightening into his wrist, he went to make a rude gesture at it, but thought the better of it. Best not antagonize the magic, if it even was sentient.

' _If Dream were here, he could take this thing off of me.'_ George thought, wrapping a roll of bandage around the magic. It buzzed when he touched it, giving him a slight electrical shock. His arm felt a little numb, but George ignored it and stepped out, preparing to go to bed. A little early, but he felt like he was going to fall at any moment. He crashed onto his bed, groaning into his sheets. Immediately, he drifted off.

That is, until he woke up in a tree.

* * *

Dream perched on a fir tree, catching his bearings. Sapnap would have his magic spread over the kingdom, looking for him at this point. He had to get to Diamonds, and fast. He unspooled more thread in front of him, racing across the top of the treetops.

Ahead, a mountain range loomed, the barrier between Spades and Diamonds, and the Diamonds source of their immeasurable wealth. It was getting dark, so Dream settled down, getting a small fire going. It was at this moment he realised: he'd forgotten to raid the kitchens for food.

"Dang," Dream swore, getting up to set a trap. He stopped when something landed in the trees. Something heavy. Whatever it was, it sucked at hiding. He didn't move a muscle, letting his other senses take over.

The insect chatter had stopped, and the forest was eerily quiet. Dream inched one foot forward, settling it into the mulch. Slowly, he withdrew a small dagger, stepping closer to the tree. It had stopped moving: a bad sign.

He pulled another dagger out and scaled the tree quickly, using his threads to arrest the creaking of the branches. There was a lump draped over a particularly thick branch, and Dream made for it. He prodded it, and it slapped at him.

"Stop it Skep... It isn't funny," George mumbled. Dream froze. No way. How? He glanced back, estimating the distance he himself had covered. About two days' worth of distance. There was actually no way George would have made it halfway without getting eaten. As he turned back, a flash of green caught his eye.

Of course.

The magic couldn't bear to be apart for too long, so it teleported the wearer to the user. Dream summoned more strings, cradling George and lowering him down to the forest floor. He didn't so much as stir, but he did grumble when Dream swabbed his scratches.

"I have to deal with this now?" Dream muttered, dabbing the medicine on with more force than was necessary, stopping when George whined. He decided to just stop thinking about it and go to sleep. Tomorrow's problems were for tomorrow's Dream to solve.

* * *

"I-what? Dream?"

Dream turned and groped for his mask, sliding it onto his face and buckling it on. He flopped back onto his bed, feeling the morning dew settle into his poncho. "So apparently, the magic decided it'd be a great idea if you came with me," he said out loud. He didn't even wait for George to react; he just walked away, accelerating into a run. Using a low-hanging branch, he leaped through the tree branches, the threads cushioning the impact and allowing him to jump farther. He didn't stop until he reached Diamonds.

The castle in Diamonds was a work of art. Carved from quartz, the bricks of the castle were a milky white, tinged lightly with pink. The pennants snapping in the wind were bright jewel colours, and the entire castle was built on a layer of bedrock.

All this was lost on Dream, who was currently speeding over the rooftops, George in tow. The magic had literally bound them together, and George was stuck with Dream, like it or not.

"Oh my god... Leave me alone!!" Dream shouted, turning back to look at George.

"NO!!" Came the vehement reply as George struggled to keep his footing. He slipped, and would've fallen if Dream hadn't caught him with the magical bond, yanking him so that he was standing beside Dream.

"Do you know what I'm doing here?" Dream demanded. "I've got to raid a dungeon in the heart of the mines! Can you please explain to me how you managed to find me?"

"Wait-dungeon? Can I come? I've never seen a dungeon!" George stared around the lush interior of the Diamonds' castle with wonder. The floor was carpeted with a navy blue carpet so thick they left footprints in the cloth. Stained glass windows let in multicolored streams of light, and banners decorated the ceiling.

"Yes dungeon, and no, you can't come." Dream knocked on the door of the throne room, and it swung open soundlessly.

"Greetings, Ace. My husband told me to expect you." A light, musical voice floated down to them. George glanced around the throne room. The marble floor was checkered black and white, and the pillars were inlaid with jewels. But the sight to behold was on the floor. Piled all over the floor like they were expendable resources were more jewels. Opals, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and hundreds of other gems twinkled and sparkled.

"Holy..." George breathed, sweeping his gaze upwards. The Queen was seated on the throne, resplendent in silks and jewels. She stood up and stepped down, inclining her head at Dream.

"And this would be...?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow. Up close, George could see tiny diamonds braided into her perfectly coiffed rings, and her crown could buy his village a few years worth of food. Suddenly, he was extremely aware of how shabby he looked next to her.

"He is my...apprentice, Your Majesty. His family sent him to the palace to work, and he begged me to teach him," Dream cut in. The Queen nodded and turned towards a tiny side door George didn't see.

"Shall we? I'm afraid we'll have to keep it brief, I have a meeting with the ministers later." She led them to a table filled with wet clay, and gently touched it. A perfect replica of the mountains rose, along with a miniature Diamonds castle. "This is a real time map of the Kingdom. The magic stones were found here, and here."

Dream studied the glowing areas intently, his fingers tracing the map. George squinted at it and tried his best to look like he was actually concentrating.

"Your Majesty, have you evacuated the mines? I have a feeling this is going to get messy," Dream walked towards the window, peering out and looking down. He leaned so far out that George's fingers itched to pull him back in, until he finally retracted his head. "Also, do you have a scientist or a magiologist?"

* * *

"Oh hey! This is Dr Trayaurus, and he says nice to meet you! Jemma told me you were coming," A voice supplied. He was crouched beside a large table, petting a dog formed from bones. He got up, dusting off his dark blue jacket. A pair of blue tinted goggles were propped up on his head, and the hair underneath was an electric blue. "I'm Dan, nice to meet you." George grasped his outstretched hand and shook it.

Dr Trayaurus looked up from his project, a mess of cogs and wheels. "So what is it that you want?" he stripped off his apron and walked briskly over. Underneath his apron, he wore a snow white lab coat that reached to his ankles and dark brown shoes.

"Do you have a brewing stand we could use?" Dream said, glancing around. "Just a normal potion kit is fine."

Dan conferred with Dr Trayaurus, the latter speaking in hums and grunts. "Behind his desk, there should be one."

Dr Trayaurus gestured towards a tiny table, where the strangest structure George had ever seen stood. It extended straight upwards for about half an arm's length, before arching down sharply into three prongs, stopping before touching a small stone plate.

"How do you use this?" George fawned over it, excitedly touching every surface he could reach. He looked over at Dream, who had his arms full of various potion ingredients. George saw a strange mushroom, dark red and stunted and bottles filled with a clear liquid, and what George was pretty sure was a spider eye the size of his fist.

"Watch and learn, apprentice." Dream sprinkled a pinch of orange powder into a small valve, and the potion stand sparked to life. He wriggled three bottles of water onto the stone plates, arranging it so that the three prongs were resting in the bottles. Under Dream's watchful eye, he cut up one of those weird red stunted things-a nether wart!-and dropped it into the potion stand.

The potion stand gurgled and spat, and finally quietened down. George looked at Dream. "Now what?"

"Now, you put the magma cream in," Dream said, unscrewing the top of a small box and revealing a fiery looking cream. "It doesn't burn, I promise."

George stared at the gloopy mixture and very reluctantly dug his fingers in, grimacing at the texture. It burned, then froze on his fingers, numbing them. He scooped out a sizeable dollop and slowly let it drip into the stand, scraping the rest of it off his hand. Before his very eyes, a cloud of vivid orange diffused through the water of the potion bottles, and the potion stand gurgled and was still.

"What is it?" George asked, gaping at the coloured liquids. Dream reached over and pulled the bottles out, corking them and sliding the vials into slots on a leather belt, where several other bottles were already nestled.

"Fire resistance potions. I have a feeling we're going to need it." Dream crouched down again and started fiddling with the potion stand, but a sudden fizzling interrupted him. He quickly stood up as an orange rectangle about one metre in length expanded, and the flames receded from the centre to reveal someone in the screen.

"Dream! Thank god I connected. Bad! I've got Dream on the line!" The figure shouted, and Bad came hurrying into view.

"What? I've been dealing with this villager, says some guy kidnapped his friend-"

"Gogy!" Skeppy elbowed his way to the front, the diamond pieces embedded his flesh glittering and shining in the dim light. "How you've been? And where are you? Who's that beside you?"

"Uhm, Skeppy hi. This is Dream, and I think I'm in Diamonds right now."

"Uhm, hold up," the figure waved his hands around and pointed at Dream. "You-why are you there? And you!" he jabbed at George. "Who are you, and why are you with our Ace?"

"Ace? Dream, what's going on?" George turned to look at Dream.

Dream rubbed his forehead-or, the place on his mask where his forehead should be. "Oh my god. Right, do you want the short version or the long version?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was wondering if I should make an instagram or something for this book. So that I can post the few drabbles I have or like, incorrect quotes? And maybe, just maybe, fanart? See you guys next chapter!


	4. Advancement made: Monster Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which George has to perform emergency first aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha people get hurt a lot in this one. And by people, I mean Dream >:D

A week ago, George would've scoffed if someone said he was going on an adventure. Now, he had the Queen, Jack and Skeppy crowded around one side of a magical screen and Dream on his side, the supposed Ace of Spades. 

George might be from the country, but everyone knew of their legendary Ace. Parents would tell their children bedtime stories of how their Ace had been alive for as long as time itself, and how he had chosen countless Royals. He would come in disguise and observe the soon to be Royal, biding his time before he selected them. 

"Dream! We said you couldn't go," the Queen sighed, but there was no force behind his words. "Well, whatever. Where are you now?"

"Heading into the dungeons now, why?" Dream unbuckled a large axe-the one that George had seen at first- and slid a whetstone across the blade several times. 

"Dream, don't do that, you'll spoil the enchantments," Bad moaned. "The enchanting on that thing didn't come cheap, and you stole it from me."

"I won it, and sorry. Force of habit." Dream slung his axe across his back and pointed at the man wearing a bandanna. "George, this is Sapnap, Queen of Spades. Sapnap, George."

"Hi George," Sapnap glared at Dream accusingly, but he just tilted his head innocently. "Dream causing you any trouble?"

"Hey! That's not fair, I found him stuck in a tree! If you should be asking anyone that question, it should be me!"

"Anyway, Dream. Are you going to raid the dungeon?" Sapnap said seriously, even though his lip twitched upwards at the mention of George in a tree. 

"Yeah, of course. Are you going to stop me?" Dream headed towards the door, and George followed quickly. The screen floated along with them, and George couldn't help but feel impressed even though he knew almost nothing about magic. To keep up a connection from so far away, and for so long was astounding. Sapnap would need to have minute control over his magic, and have a large reservoir magic at hand.

"No, but we can at least watch you. I've never actually seen you on your raids, so this would be a new experience," Sapnap's voice echoed in the caves, sending weird vibrations resonating through the cave and back at them. "Make it interesting. Your Queen commands you."

"Yes, my Queen." Dream bowed, somehow managing to make a royal title sound belittling. He unsheathed a knife from his boot and tossed it to George, who fumbled the catch and somehow managed to not cut any parts of himself off. "This is for if you get cornered." Dream rounded a stalactite and was met with a smooth tunnel, barely taller than he was.

The walls of the tunnel were carved with lines and lines of script in a different language, spiralling in whorls across the walls and ceiling. The words were painted with a dark red liquid, but some of them were painted in a vivid orange. 

"It looks like-" George started.

"Fire," Dream finished, standing back and looking at the words. They formed huge flames and rivers of lava splashed across the wall. The tunnel abruptly ended, opening into a room that looked like a scene from hell. 

Dusty yellow rock covered the floor, and lava hissed and bubbled in a lake. The walls were streaked with soot, and netherwart was growing in patches of dark brown sand. But that wasn't the worse part.

Humanoid pigs wandered around, golden swords hanging by their side. Their bodies were worm eaten and dessicating, and George fought back a wave of nausea. He turned, only to be met with another horror. A massive skeleton loomed over him, a stone sword clutched in its hand. Everything about it was dark, from its bones to the weapon he was holding. A black miasma surrounded it, and George instinctively backpedaled, reaching behind him for Dream. His fingers brushed empty air, and his heart climbed into his throat. 

"Dream!" He whimpered, looking around frantically. George found him sneaking around the edge of the dungeon, skirting the pool of lava and ran after him. Perched on an island in the middle of the lake, an innocent looking chest awaited him. Dream pulled George behind an outcropping of rock, shushing him frantically. 

"Shush, Gogy! Do you want to get us killed?" Despite his words, his voice was alight with excitement, and he glanced this way and that, soaking in the sights. 

"Are you...excited about this?" George asked, incredulous. He couldn't believe there would be someone this pumped about entering a terrifiyng dungeon that was capable of killing someone. "We could literally die here!"

"No, you won't," Sapnap interrupted. "He helms our adventure guild, and he's the one we go to if we need to raid a particularly hard dugeon. You're in good hands, George."

Dream vaulted over the rock with a single smooth motion, unsheathing his axe. One of those dark skeletons turned, its sword raising to run Dream through. It never got the chance. Dream lashed out, slashing at the skeleton. The axe smashed through its ribs, sending the skeleton staggering back. It reared back and came down, aiming for Dream's head. George pulled the knife out of his pocket and held it in front of him, inching forward. 

"Uh Dream? Am I supposed to-oh never mind," George mumbled, watching Dream eviscerate the skeleton. He swung his axe at a smoky sprite, and it exploded into rods of orange. He scooped them up and turned to face another skeleton. Two chops, and the bones dropped to the stone with a clatter. 

"Show off, Dream. You only fight like this for crowds," Sapnap chuckled. Dream turned and took an exaggerated bow, sweeping his axe back into his sheath. 

"Dream, why did you give him a knife if you're just going to slaughter everything? Nathan might want something from the dungeon. You know how he likes exotic creatures," Bad clucked. Dream pointed at a small cage situated on the floor, and right on cue, two shapes emerged from the cage, crackling and spitting. Slowly, they took on the forms of the black skeletons. 

"Spawners. My god, they're spawners," Bad breathed, his eyes wide.

"Spawners? What are they?" George looked from side to side, dodging a clumsy blow from the skeleton. The tip of the sword nicked Dream's right arm as he hacked into the ribcage of the second skeleton. He fell to his knees, and black smoke gushed out from under his mask. Frantically, he clawed at his mask, and with growing horror, George realised black lines of infection were crawling up Dream's fingers. He backed away from Dream's blackened fingers, which grasped at him. 

"G-George..." Dream gurgled. George was terrified. He took another step backwards, and his foot slipped. He fell backwards, straight into the lava lake. The last thing he saw was Dream leaping towards him, his blackened fingers outstretched.

The lava closed over his head, and he felt pleasantly cool at first. In his mind, he knew that the lava was overloading his nerves. Oh well. At least it wouldn't hurt. He drifted gently in the molten rock, his vision obscured by the bright yellow liquid. A bottle dropped into the lava, and George scooped it up. Even though the glass was literally melting in his hands, he felt no pain. He pushed upwards, his body straining against the sluggish liquid. When his head broke the surface and he took his first lungful of fresh air, he saw it. The thin layer of yellow that covered him. 

Fire resistance.

Dream.

"Oh god!" George splashed out of the pool, dragging himself out. He saw Dream in the distance, lying on his side. In the corner of his vision, he spotted Sapnap, Bad and Skeppy hovering over Dream's body, identical expressions of worry on their faces. 

"George! Oh thank god. You have to help Dream. He should have a bottle of milk on him, take it out and make him drink it. Force it down his throat if you have to. Just one sip will do, and pour the rest of onto his injury," Sapnap instructed, jabbing at Dream. "Our connection's going to cut off soon, so-" The magic screen cut off, and the voice died with the screen.

George scrambled towards Dream, turning him over and lifting his wrist. (He tried not to notice the way the skin gave under his lightest touch.) He could feel a pulse, but it was faint and fear fueled him. The smoke was still leaking from the corners of his mask, but finally, he located the bottle of milk in a side pocket and struggled with the cork, the reddish sand on his hands making it all the more difficult. Finally, he got the bottle open and dripped several drops into Dream's mouth, inching his mask out of the way. When he got no response, he poured a sizeable mouthful into Dream's mouth and closed it. 

Dream howled, jerking free of George's touch. The black smoke poured out again, this time in thicker quantities. George coughed, but he grabbed Dream's arm and dashed the rest of the milk onto his lines of infection and released him. 

Dream flopped on the ground, his hands digging into the brittle rock desperately and breaking skin, blood staining his fingertips. His back arched so far that it actually cracked before he dropped back down, breathing heavily. At least he was breathing easier now. George looked around. 

"Do I take the chest?" He asked out loud, to no one in particular. He opened the chest, looking inside. Gold, diamonds, a book rippling with purple enchantments and a pair of golden boots with icy mist rising from it. 

"Take it. It's what I came here for, and I'll be damned if I'm leaving this place without it," Dream said, sitting up. He was clutching his right arm, and he sounded like he had been screaming until his vocal cords shattered. But he was alive and well, so that should account for something, right?

"Okay. What-what do I do? What do I take?"

"Just empty out the chest. And take some of this stuff too." Dream scooped out a clod of the fine sand that the netherwart were growing in and trickled it out from his palm. "We can give Dr Trayaurus some of that."

"Who's Nathan?" George asked, digging through the chest and putting the stuff he found into a leather satchel Dream had tossed him. 

"He's King of Clover, a sort of a holiday kingdom. Maybe one day I'll take you there. He also has a penchant for strange and exotic animals, and we trade him these creatures. Usually, he finds some way to contain them for studying." Dream uncorked a bottle of something pink, and immediately, the sulfuric smell of the dungeon faded into the background, replaced with a pleasant smell of berries and summer fruit. Dream took a quick swig and immediately, his breathing came eaiser. He gestured for George to come closer and handed him the bottle.

"What happened to you just now? When you started spewing smoke," George asked, taking a sip of potion. Immediately, his breathing eased, and he felt slightly cooler. He didn't know whether those big skeletons caused that, or something else. 

"Those are wither skeletons. When they hit you, they give you an effect called wither," Dream explained, alternating potion sips between his words. "Those things suck. It hurts, but you usually survive it if you get medical attention."

"You didn't look like you'd survive that wither. I had to force feed milk into you," George pointed out. "You were flopping on the ground and everything."

"That's a side effect of using milk. It detoxes most potion effects and stuff, but the process is pretty painful." Dream finished off the potion and got up, dusting off his yellow poncho. George couldn't tell where the patches were, since his vision didn't allow him to differentiate colours. He could never tell colours apart. "Come on, toss me that satchel and we'll get out of here."

George passed the knapsack over and followed Dream out of the dungeon. The moment he stepped out of the dungeon, the temperature dropped, and George shivered. He never realised that the temperature was different in the caves. 

"Dungeons have different temperatures because different kinds of magic spawn them in," Dream explained, pulling himself over a chasm. He stretched out his hand, but George ignored it and pulled himself over a rickety rope bridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dream withdrawing his hand.

"You seem to know an awful lot about magic, Dream," George observed, following Dream through a series of tunnels lit with torches. The mines were completely deserted, and their voices echoed through the caves, sending distorted echoes back towards them. 

"I have to. I work with dungeons, there is no way I cannot not understand the rudimentaries of magic." Dream tapped a minecart and pointed up, where a weak shaft of sunlight shone down. "This is our ticket out of here. Hop on." 

George climbed in, and Dream started clearing the tracks a little, lacing that uniquely butter yellow magic of his into every single nook and cranny of the minecart. "Uhm, what are you doing?" He called out.

"Making sure we achieve maximum liftoff when we shoot out of this mineshaft." Dream tied off a knot with a flourish, bracing himself against the minecart and pushing. it screeched and clung on, reluctant to move. George hopped out, jamming his shoulder against the minecart and pushing as well. With a final groan, the minecart starting moving, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it nudged onto the powered rails. 

Dream jumped into the cart and basically hauled George in. "We're going, we're going!" He whooped, sticking his hands into the air. "Isn't this fun, George?"

George had to admit, it wasn't everyday he got to take a ride in a rusty minecart through the caves of Diamonds. He glanced into several tunnels branching off and glimpsed raw, uncut minerals glittering in several of them. The light got brighter and brighter, and George soon had to squint. They flew into the sunlight, and George could feel the wind carding through his hair. 

"Look down, Gogy!"

"Huh- Oh my god!" George scrambled backwards, clinging onto Dream's poncho. They weren't on any rails. In fact, they weren't on anything at all. Their minecart was flying through thin air, and they were starting to lose altitude. "Dream! Dream we're going to die!"

"Relax, George. We aren't going to die!" Dream laughed, his voice still raspy from those monstrous screams he'd produced. 

"Dream-" Their minecart fell like a stone, plummeting towards a small pool in a forested area. The pool glittered invitingly, but George knew enough about terminal velocity to know that from this height, the fall would be, well, terminal.

Dream hopped onto the edge of the minecart and pulled George out with him, ignoring his angry protests. He jumped.

George was so shocked, he clung onto Dream's poncho with a deathgrip, his face white with fear. He watched as Dream skilfully dropped them down a series of loops he wove with his magic, killing their momentum and dropping them into the pool. George hit the water with a large splash, and he gasped instinctively. The water was cold, but in a refreshing way. George could feel the sand lifting off his skin, and he rubbed it off of him before surfacing. 

"We could've died!" George spluttered, but even he couldn't hear any anger behind those words. The thing was, he never believed that he would die. He had complete and utter trust in Dream, and that scared him.

"No, we wouldn't have. I had it under control," Dream cackled, wringing out his poncho and draping it over his shoulder. He caught sight of George's doubtful glance. "Oh c'mon Georgie. I had it under control, really." 

"Yeah right. That's why I fell into the lake, while you just washed off your poncho!" George grumbled, climbing out of the lake. His shoes squished uncomfortably, and he took them off his feet. "Do you have some sort of drying spell or something? I'm soaking wet."

Dream snickered, but passed over his poncho. It was slightly damp, but George wrapped it around him, grateful for the garment, even if it was bright yellow. "Now let's go. We have to cover a lot of distance by foot, and I'd hate to have to run in the dark. I've done it, but you, however..." Dream trailed off. The meaning was clear: George would get eviscerated if he was to wander the woods alone. 

"This isn't the Forest, I'll be fine," George said, pulling the poncho over his head and running after Dream. 

"All forests are part of it. They've just been separated," Dream whirled back. Under his poncho, he wore a yellow shirt with a smile drawn onto it with charcoal and dark blue pants tucked into the top of his knee-high boots. Leather straps crisscrossed his body, different things hanging off them. Some of them contained bottles of coloured liquids, and some others contained sheaths.

"Hmm," George said, trying to sound intelligent. The truth was, he didn't even know what Dream was talking about. Apparently Dream sensed it too, because he stopped and covered George's eyes. 

"I'll show you," Dream murmured, lowering his voice. "Don't try to see. Feel."

George wanted to retort, but he decided to just humour Dream. He tried to imagine his senses reaching out, connecting with the world around him. 

Slowly, he started to hear things. The chatter of insects, clicking and buzzing in his ears. The far off cries of birds, settling down for the night. 

"Deeper. Push deeper," Dream's voice sounded beside him, as quiet as the whisper of leaves. He struggled, trying to sense everything. He felt blind compared to the rest of the world, and it didn't help that Dream was covering his eyes. 

"I can't do this Dream," he whined. Dream uncovered his eyes, and George swore that the colours around him brightened for a second. But then, they faded back to the usual unhealthy yellow. 

"It's okay, I'll train you, apprentice." George was pretty sure Dream was smiling under his mask. "Once we get out of this forest, your life will be a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend."

"I highly doubt that, Dream. But okay." George wrapped the yellow fabric tighter around himself. "Why do you have a bright yellow poncho anyway? That can't be good for stealth missions."

"Yellow? It's not yellow," Dream said, tilting his head. "It's green. Lime green, actually."

"Lime green? It's clearly yellow." George stared down at the brightly coloured poncho. Was it because-oh right. "Oh. Right. Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry."

"What? Did you see the colours wrongly?" Dream asked teasingly. 

"What-no, I'm colorblind!" George said defensively. "I can't differentiate colours very well."

"Oh. Okay." Dream turned back to the forest. "That sucks."

"Shut up."

* * *

"Ugh, this is boring! I can't understand this," George whined, collapsing over the library table. "Why do I need to learn potion ingredients? I'm not training to be a cleric!"

"So do you want a hands on activity then?" Dream asked, somewhere in the library. He had taken to hiding on the tops of the library shelves, out of George's sight. 

"Preferably so. I don't like theory classes." George slammed the musty old book shut, stretching out his arms and popping his joints. 

"Alright. Meet me in the gardens then." Dream droppped off the bookshelf and raced out of the library. George followed the corner of the bright yellow fabric whipping around the corners of the castle, out into the bright sunlight.

George had been in this routine for a week now. Pretend to study in the library, complain about it, then race Dream out into the gardens. Dream had developed a game where he would hide in the garden grounds, and George had to find him. Apparently, this was so that he could help Sapnap and Bad when Dream disappeared on his escapades.

"Oh Dream~" George sang, looking around the garden. The land had a forest on it, and that was where Dream loved to hide in. George stepped carefully, nestling his feet into the soil beneath the trees, where the dirt was firmer. He heard rustling, and instinctively, he ducked. A crossbow bolt thudded into the tree trunk beside him, and he heard Dream's laughter. 

The first time Dream actually laughed, George thought he was choking. His laugh started off as a exhale and deteriorated into a breathless wheeze. He had seen Dream pause or even sit down to catch his breath after laughing before. The man laughed like he was dying. 

"Oh George~" Dream whispered in a singsong voice, leaping from tree to tree, agile as always on his feet. "Don't you want to catch me, George?" 

George crashed through the underbrush, the racket he made at odds with the silence with which Dream glided through the treetops like a wraith. George glanced around, seeing the marks he'd carved onto the the tree trunks and boulders. Good, he was still on track. 

George couldn't catch Dream. He'd tried, and failed hundreds of times. Dream could best George in a battle hands down. He had always been silent, but when he was in the forests, he made no sound whatsoever. But he could trap Dream. 

Over the weeks, he'd dug a huge pit and covered it with branches. Dream might have found it, but it didn't matter. He'd rigged up several other traps around the area, all designed to push him into the pit. The pit was something of a trap George used to dig for bears and stuff in the village, but he'd never imagined himself digging one for a human. 

"Oh George, where are you going? Running away isn't going to help you win this manhunt~" Dream cackled, landing on a tree breanch especially hard and shaking a shower of leaves onto him. 

George ignored him and kept running. There was no point. He leapt over his pit and skidded to a stop. Dream landed at the edge of the pit, and George's heart sank. All thsoe hours digging in the moonlight was going to go to waste. Then he leapt onto the bed of branches, and all hell broke loose. 

The branches collapsed under his weight, and Dream looked down. George took the chance and jumped at Dream, drawing a simple stone sword he had swiped from the armoury. He smacked the sword against Dream's arm, and he grunted in surprise. 

"A trap? When you did you dig this out?" Dream laughed, swinging his wooden sword at George. He had wanted a diamond sword, but George had vehemently disagreed, stating that he would die immediately. 

[ _"I promise to go gentle on you!"_

_"No! You'll probably chop off my arm!"_

_"No way, you're just being a baby."_

_"You're the baby here, you little-"_ ]

George smacked a hidden lever with the flat of his sword, triggering the hidden spikes at the bottom of the pit. He heard Dream's sharp inhale and smiled grimly. 

' _Let's see how you're going to get out of this now, Dream._ ' He thought to himself.

Dream jammed his sword into the side of the wall, slowing his fall. But it wasn't enough. The spikes were pretty sharp, and they could do some serious damage if he fell onto them. George was still holding onto him, so that complicated things. Dream wound the threads over the hilt of the sword, swinging himself upwards. He experienced a moment of vertigo when they shot up, and his vision blurred upwards. But then they were flying upwards, away from the deathtrap that would need to be filled in by some poor gardener. 

"George, what the heck? That could've have..." His voice trailed off as he stared down the point of a sword held by a purple haired man. He scrambled up, but something smashed across the back of his head, and his vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a twitter and Instagram now! :D
> 
> Instagram: https://instagram.com/the.modernquill?igshid=kldxl36v02ug
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/ThemodernQ?s=08
> 
> I haven't posted anything substantial on either yet, but my Instagram has some out of context quotes


	5. Achievement unlocked: Time to Strike!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, so the previous chapter, I forgot to put a warning for the withering? This chapter has abuse of potions, so just warning y'all. Also, we've got ourselves a group of new characters ;)

"Get him into the cell Stephen. Don't drag him in here like a bag of supplies, that's gross." Dream blinked under his mask. A man with radioactive green hair and a crown perched on top of his head was speaking. 

A quiet mumbling followed. 

"What? No, that's stupid, are you insane? A ransom?" 

"The arena?" This one came from a dark corner, and Dream could barely catch it, it was so quiet. "He could be your champion. I've seen how he fights. I know how good he is." 

"That's a great idea! See, Stephen, why can't you be more like Hosuh?" 

* * *

Dream didn't even know how long had it been. Minutes? Hours? He had been incapacitated for a while now, and he spent every moment trying to formulate escape plans. They had covered every single route of escape, and even blocked his magic. Without his magic, he was nothing. True. he still had superhuman speed and reflexes, but he would tire easily. He shifted against the stone wall, the rough rope chafing his wrists. 

He worried about who were these people, and how they managed to capture him. To be fair, he was off guard, so maybe that's why. But the Spades castle had some serious security, and there was no way that Sapnap didn't detect them entering the castle. 

He worried about the kingdom, and what was going to happen when they discovered he was gone. Would they send out a search party? Probably not, they'd assume it was one of his stints and just let him be. 

He worried a lot. 

The door unlocked, and a grey haired man walked in and sat across him, cross legged on the stone floor. 

"I'm...this is my first time meeting you, so hi. I'm Hosuh," Hosuh smiled awkwardly, giving Dream a little wave. 

Dream racked his brains, wondering how Hosuh didn't remember Purple Hair drugging him and tying him to the post. He settled for just staring at him through the eyeholes of his mask. Hosuh seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands. 

"I...I don't really know what's going on," Hosuh confessed. "Stephen dragged you in here early this morning, but I just found out. How are you?" 

Dream tried to say something, but his throat closed up. He hadn't been given water, and he was only surviving on the watery soup that Stephen forced down his throat. 

"Oh, right! I brought you a glass of water." Hosuh inched forward, procuring a glass of water. He reached forward and dug his fingers under Dream's mask. Dream flinched, but Hosuh only pulled it upwards so that his mouth was exposed. He tilted the glass into Dream's mouth, and he drank like a dying man. 

"Thank you," Dream said breathlessly. "I haven't had water in a while." 

Hosuh smiled, and suddenly, his smile seemed to become more predatory. "So Dream, how does a day in the life of an Ace feel like?" 

Dream hummed, considering his words. The water was working his way through his system, and in a distant corner of his mind, he realised he'd been drugged. "Not much, I'm usually just in the castle, waiting for a summon from the Queen." 

"The Queen? What's his name?" 

Dream's head drooped onto his chest, but his mouth kept moving. "Sapnap, his name is Sapnap." Why was he saying all this? He had to stop, now. 

"Lovely." Hosuh's smile became sweet and angelic, and his next words were practically dripping with honey. "One last question before I go. How does an Ace choose the next generation of Royals?" 

"We don't...I don't..." Dream's tongue was starting to became heavy, and he struggled to turn his thoughts into words. Dark spots were encroaching on his field of vision, and he saw Hosuh stand up and leave, closing the door behind him. He slipped into the darkness after that. 

* * *

"Get up, Dream! It's a new day!" Stephen walked in, shaking a potion bottle cheerfully and jangling his keys. Dream was still shaking the dregs of the sleeping potion from his mind, and he heard Stephen clattering around. 

Stephen tilted Dream's mask to meet his face. "Dan's found a plan for you~" He uncorked the bottle and angled it over Dream's eyes. 

Dream had an awful premonition, and he started thrashing around. The potion still hadn't cleared out yet, and he still couldn't speak. When the first drops of potion made its way onto his eyes, he screamed and thrashed even harder, his wrists bleeding from the chafing. 

It hurt. 

Stephen poured the rest of the potion down the eyeholes of his mask and corked the bottle. "There we go. The potion won't last long, so don't you worry." 

Dream hated it. He could only see darkness, and when Stephen grabbed his wrists to retie them, he jumped violently. Living blind was terrifying. It sucked, and the potion burned. He could feel it. Every time his vision seemed to be making a comeback, the potion would burn, and his vision would fade back to black. He stumbled across the hallways, Stephen pushing what he was pretty sure was a loaded crossbow into his back. 

Dimly, he saw sunlight flashing through his vision, and realised they were heading out. The stone beneath his feet changed to sand, and sunlight warmed his back. He inhaled shakily, the warm, earthy smells of the forests calming him. Okay. He was in a forest. That was a start. Being blind sucked, but somehow, he felt like all of his other senses were heightened to make up for it. He sniffed again, and he thought he smelled the spicy scent of pine sap. 

"Get moving, convict. We haven't got all day," Stephen shackled him to a wooden post, and all Dream could feel was the burn of the potion in his eyes and the heavy metal shackles on his wrists. 

"Ladies, and gentlemen! Today, we offer you a special treat." The voice of the announcer lowered conspiratorially. "We have captured the renowned Ace of Spades. Give it up for Dream!" 

There was wild applause, but Dream heard catcalls and boos among the cheers. He heard a metal chain being cranked open, and something was thrown into the sand at his feet. He touched it gently. A sword. Diamond, by the feel of it, and pretty used. But Dream picked it up regardless, gripping it tightly. He heard the sand crunch beneath his opponent's feet. He felt the heavy footfalls. And he heard the chains around his wrists clatter to the floor. 

And he heard the roar of the lion as it charged him. 

* * *

George stared at the bright yellow bracelet circling his wrist. Dream had been gone for a while now. He'd woken up with a massive headache in a forest, and Dream was gone. At first, he thought that Dream had run off again. But after looking around, he realised he wasn't even in the palace. 

_You could try._ His mind whispered. _Go off and find him._

"Shut up," he said out loud. "I'm not actually doing it. Nope, nope, nope." He had the magic bracelet around his wrist, surely that was enough. 

"Well, off I go I guess," George said into the muggy heat and headed off, checking his bracelet one last time. 

* * *

George glanced down at his wrist for the hundredth time in an hour, checking the bracelet. He already knew that it would be difficult finding Dream, but he had forgotten one fact, so fundamental and simple he didn't know how he forgot. 

He didn't know how to use the magic. 

"Stupid. So stupid," he mumbled, storming through the forest. It was hot, unbearably so, and the humidity didn't make it any better. His shirt was sticking to his body, and his hair scratched uncomfortably at his neck. 

But he spotted something. It looked like a castle, abandoned to the elements. Vines snaked their way around the turrets, and moss covered the bricks. Despite that, there was a thin spire of smoke rising from one of the turrets. Cheering internally. he headed towards the castle. 

Up close the castle was huge. The door was rotted off its hinges, and he stepped over it. "Hello? Anyone here?" He called out. Strangely, there seemed to be cheering in the background. George picked his way around a throne, split into half like lightning had struck it. Wherever he looked, he saw destruction, and signs of a war. There was a ragged hole punched through a side wall, and a hemisphere of molten metal beside it. 

Cannonball. George realised. 

"Hello." A grey haired man stepped out from the side of the throne silently. He was wide eyed, and for a moment, both men blinked at each other. Then they exploded into movement. The grey haired man whipped out an iron sword and swung it down at George, who was diving for his legs. 

George rolled aside, feeling the sword cut into the brick and sending slivers of stone into his skin. He rose upwards and unsheathed his own stone sword, hitting his opponent over the head with the hilt of his sword. With a delicate moan, the man keeled over and flopped onto the floor with a quiet thump. 

George's heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and adrenaline was crashing through him in waves. He dropped his sword with a clatter and crawled over to the man. Oh, thank the gods he had a pulse. He was just unconscious. 

"Hey, Hosuh. What's going on with-" A purple haired man rounded the corner and stopped short. George realised how bad it looked: he was crouching over Hosuh, and there was a sword literally by his hand. 

"It's not what you think-" George started, but the purple haired man was running, his hands coated in purple. He swung one of his hands, which collided with George's temple and knocked him out. George only had enough time to think: Not again. 

* * *

Dream looked up at the door. He heard footsteps, probably two people walking down the corridor. Nothing worth listening to. 

Stephen kept coming in to top up the potion, giving his eyes no rest. His vision was coming back, and he waited expectantly for the familiar dimming. He could make out blurry shapes and figures now, but the cell was dark, and being tied up didn't help matters. But he was certain Stephen was trying to help him escape. The potion had been getting weaker and weaker. And every time Stephen came in, he would rustle about the doorway for a bit. 

Then again, this wasn't the most concrete evidence. 

He was jerked out of his thoughts when the door unlocked, and someone stepped in. 

"Hello Dream. Nice to see you again. I'm Dan," Dan said, chuckling at his own joke. Beside him, someone shuffled. 

"Dan, can I get to administering the potion now? We don't want to hold up the fight, since we have a special guest," Stephen said. 

"Tell me what to do again Stephen, and you're going to be the one feeding the lions," Dan snapped back. 

But after a while, Stephen crossed the floor and knelt down, tilting Dream's head up and trickling the potion in. The edges of his vision brightened, and he shuddered violently. The rope around his hands were loosened, and he was dragged to his waiting cell. Absently, he wondered who this 'special guest' was. Probably something big and stupidly dangerous. 

"Ladies and gentlemen! Sorry for the delay, I'm back!" Dan's voice echoed through the arena. The booing of a bloodthirsty crowd met him, but he simply chuckled. "How about I make it up to you folks? I know you love seeing blood spilt, yeah?" 

The crowd roared, stamping their feet and sending vibrations through the old stone. Dream didn't like being forced to fight in front of a crowd, but he got the sense that if he didn't fight, he would die immediately. 

"As a way to even the playing field, we've gagged the guest so he can't speak. Dream, you'd better keep an eye out for him," Dan cackled, and the gates rose. Dream clutched his sword, stepping out onto the freshly sanded arena. He thought he heard a gasp, but then he heard the footsteps. 

Light, and cautious. Not an animal. No claws outstretched too. Good, good. He circled the arena carefully, taking in huge lungfuls of air. Nothing fetid, so no zombies or anything undead. Nothing musky or strong smelling either, so it wasn't a magical creature. Dream frowned. 

So what was it? 

* * *

George hated being hit over his head. He hated his life. And he hated this stupid arena. Not necessarily in that order. 

He'd been captured, forced to fight in an arena and now, he was involved in an elaborate escape plan which included Stephen, the man who'd knocked him out. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he focused on the bright yellow figure opposite him. His sword hand was shaking. 

Dream looked terrible. His clothes were torn, and he could make out black stains on the bright yellow poncho he had on. But Dream was alive. He crouched by the edge of the arena, his head swivelling from side to side. George shifted on the sand, and Dream snapped his head towards him. Couldn't he see? George felt panic bubbling at the edges of his reason. He stepped forward, but with each step he took, Dream took another step backwards, until his back was to the wall. 

"Dream-" He started to say around his gag. Within a second, he was pinned onto the hot sand, a diamond sword at his throat. 

"How," Dream whispered furiously, his voice fraying slightly at the edges. "Did you get here, George?" His mask had black streaks on it, and most of it was smeared around the eyeholes in his mask. 

"I'm here to save you! And you're supposed to be killing me, remember?" George hissed, pushing Dream gently. 

George gasped as Dream wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed, gently at first, then harder and harder until George was spluttering. He grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it at Dream's mask, praying some grains of sand made it into his eyes. Dream immediately released him and rolled away, wailing like an injured animal. George rolled away, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. He felt a little bad, but Dream was squeezing his throat pretty tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dream pawing at his mask frantically. 

"What the hell Dream?" He demanded. Unfortunately, he was still gagged, so his words were muffled. 

"What's this, ladies and gentlemen? Has our mute guest found a way to survive my champion?" 

George glared up at the man with the bright yellow hair, wishing he would just shut up already. That was when Stephen drew a sword and fluidly stabbed the blonde through his side, releasing his hold on it and leaping off from the balcony. Hosuh rushed to his side, and George saw their lips move in an argument. 

"Come on! We gotta go, or we'll die!" George spun around, seeing Dream's arm draped over Stephen's shoulder. He gestured urgently, and they booked it, a furious audience chasing them down. 

Stephen dashed through the undergrowth, rounding tree trunks and leaping over rotting logs with surprising nimbleness. George followed Stephen's purple mohawk, trying not to lose sight of the man. After what seemed like hours, they stopped at a river and Stephen dropped Dream onto the dirt floor. 

"Stay here, don't move. I'm here to help, but if you compromise this operation, I'll kill you," Stephen threatened, pulling out a knife. The cold look in Stephen's eyes made George certain that he would do what he said. George nodded, and Stephen disappeared into a cave. 

George immediately dashed to Dream's side, trying to ascertain the damage done. "Dream, Dream, can you hear me?" 

"George? George, where are we? I-I don't-" Dream grabbed wildly, clinging onto George's arm in a vice-like grip. George swore he felt his bones grind against each other. 

"Come on! We gotta get going." Stephen was sitting in a boat, and he waved urgently towards them. 

"Dream, follow me and whatever you do, don't let go," George warned, pulling Dream to his feet and leading him to the boat. Dream nodded violently, jumping when Stephen nudged him with his oar. 

"Oi, get on. I'm sorry about your eyes, by the way. I tried to make the blindness weaker." Stephen shoved the boat out of the tiny stream and paddled to the centre of the river. It was a pretty big boat, with a tiny cabin squeezed onto it. 

Just as Stephen got onto the river, the audience crowded on the edge of the river, shouting angrily. Stephen sailed on, straight into a whitewater rapids section. 

George slid across the boat, crashing against Dream and causing him to slide across the deck. Stephen was cursing colourfully and wrestling with his boat, but he spared a hand to point at the cabin. "Potion materials are in the cabin, help yourself!" 

"What am I supposed to do with that?" George shouted back, but Stephen had already turned his attention back to the boat. 

George dragged Dream into the cabin, forcing the door shut. He saw a slightly broken potion stand beside a bed, and a quick dig into a chest revealed netherwart and bottles with labels on them. 

"Dream, what do I do?" He crawled over to Dream's body, shaking him gently. "Dream, don't go to sleep." 

"Netherwart and ghast tears." 

George blinked, pulling his goggles down to prevent water from getting into his eyes. Ghast tears? What were those? He dug around in a chest and extricated bottle upon bottle, filled with potion ingredients. At this rate, he should just cry himself a bottle of tears. 

Potion making wasn't easy while they were on a rocking ship, but George had managed to make a yellowish potion he recognised as a potion of regeneration. 

He crawled over to Dream and turned him over gently. After a while, Dream had gone to sleep, and George was unsure of how to apply it. He uncorked it and sniffed. A little sweeter than the one that Dream had, but still pretty accurate. Slowly, George tilted the bottle and dripped it into Dream's mouth. Everything was going well so far. 

George touched the edge of his mask, bracing himself before attempting to pull it off. Faster than he could blink, Dream's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. 

"The mask stays on." 

"Dream, I need to get this potion into-" 

"The mask. Stays. On," Dream insisted, tightening his grip. "Pour it in through the eyeholes." 

"God, fine!" He trickled the liquid into Dream's mouth, then dripped the rest into his eyes. 

He stood up to leave, but Dream grabbed his arm again. "George?". 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks for saving me. Even if I did try to strangle you. I was trying to- I don't know. I got too into it, I guess." 

George settled for nodding and leaving the cabin, closing the door behind him gently. Immediately, his entire demeanour underwent a change. Hot, boiling fury poured through his veins, and he stormed up to Stephen. 

Stephen saw him coming and tossed the oar onto the deck of the boat, sighing and running his hand through his purple hair. 

"I'm sure you want an explanation, right?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan and the gang pull up and kidnap your Ace, what do you do?


	6. Recipe unlocked: Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little mellow. Also, the entire danplan thing was a little rushed, if you couldn't tell. But it comes into play later ;)
> 
> If you like what you see, then kudos, bookmarke and commente. It gives me the happy chemical :D
> 
> Lastly, thank you guys for almost 1k reads and like, 70 kudos :'D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering another book, in the same series where I just post about stories from the cardverse. It'll explain some things to come in story!

"I was from a kingdom that was pretty small compared to all the other Suits. I had a brother, Gavin," Stephen started, then stopped and wrung his hands. "I don't really know what else to say. I haven't opened up in so long."

"Hey, it's okay. Just say whatever you want. I won't judge," George said, trying to sound comforting. Stephen gave him a strange look, but he continued. 

**[Fifteen years ago, in a sleepy town]**

"Hey, wait up Stephen!" A black haired boy stumbled along, calling out for the figure in front of him. 

Stephen turned behind and stuck out his tongue. "Catch up, Gavin! I wanna show you something!" He slowed down his steps, waiting for Gavin to come up the hill. He dragged his brother into the mouth of a cave, and down into its depths. "I've made a secret base for us! So we can hide out treasure here, see?"

Gavin looked around the cave and stretched his hands out. His fingers could touch the edges of the cave. "It's a little small, Stephen." Stephen frowned and scrabbled around in one corner of the cave. Gavin heard a match being struck, then a candle was lit, illuminating his brother's face. 

"Yeah, but it makes it more interesting, right? We can have a secret hideout, like pirates!" Stephen's eyes shone at that, and Gavin couldn't say no when he did that. 

Stephen had an unquenchable thirst for adventure. He'd climb trees, build unwieldy rafts to sail on the duck pond, and go running in the fields. The world was his home, and he loved it. So Gavin and Stephen started collecting treasures.

At first, it was innocent things, harmless things. A pressed four-leaf clover, a funnily shaped pinecone, some old coins, a weird piece of porcelain they found. But slowly, Stephen started coming back with more and more valuable items. A small quartz elephant, a beautiful teardrop of an earring, a small stash of coins that looked shiny and brand new. And each time, he looked so proud at having foraged all these items, that Gavin would bite his lip and stay silent. 

His village was visited by a caravan on a hot summer's day. The whole village had gathered around the caravan, which was parked in the centre of the town square. The caravan had dirt caked in the spokes of its wheels, and the paint on the wood was scratched and faded. A man swaddled in a ermine cloak, the fabric a splattered emerald green, stumbled out. His hair was radioactive green, and he had dirt smudged over his skin. 

"Greetings. I'm Dan." He waved, standing up straight. "And I am-I was-a king."

Well, you can imagine the uproar after that. Dan was given a room in their local inn, then suddenly transported to the royal household and given a room. When the old king died, Dan stepped up and volunteered himself to lead the kingdom. Dan had a frequent visitor, and Stephen, who had a job at the palace as a gardener, had to deal with him. 

"Hey, you!" Dan's visitor, a blond male dressed in clothes that looked like they were from nobility, waved.

Stephen looked up, a glare etched into his face. "What?" He stood up, gripping his shovel like it was a sword. 

"Woah there, buddy. I don't mean to-I'm Jay. Hi." He held out his hand.

Stephen studied the perfectly manicured hand for a moment before grasping it with his own dirt-covered one. "Stephen." To Jay's credit, he didn't wipe the dirt off. "What do you want?" 

"No need to be so hostile. I just wanted to chat, since I see you around here a lot." Jay flopped down onto the grass, pointing at the pile of compost Stephen was piling into a bin. "What's going on with the pile of dirt?"

"It's not dirt, it's compost. And I'm going to stuff your head full of this if you don't be quiet." Stephen scooped up a pile of compost with his gloved hands and dumped it into his cart, then shoved it towards a flowerbed full of roses. Jay followed him, watching him closely as he spread the compost over the dirt evenly. Stephen watched Jay out of the corner of his eye. "Do you want to try?" He offered.

"How do you do this?" Jay squatted down beside Stephen, listening to Stephen detailing what to do to make sure that the roses didn't die. Jay started off slow at first, digging his hands into the fertilizer and spreading it meticulously. They struck up a conversation, and it turned out, they had a lot in common. 

"Jay! Where are you?" Dan called out. It had only been a week since Dan had volunteered to 'protect' the throne, but he had already dressed himself in a king's robe, and somehow scrounged a crown from somewhere. "Oh, hi. You are...?" He strode forward, smiling at Jay. Dan seemed like a nice enough person, so when he glanced at Stephen and he felt like a cold washcloth had been draped across his neck, he was surprised. 

"Uhm, I'm Stephen. I'm the gardener here," Stephen replied, wiping his hands on his overalls and shaking Dan's hand.

"I see. Well, you're doing a great job, so keep it up." Dan smiled and hooked an arm around Jay's shoulder and steered him away. Stephen frowned after him, but said nothing more.

Over the weeks, he started noticing things. The king's advisors started to favour Dan, and he increased in power. One day, he realised that the crown Dan was wearing wasn't that old, battered thing any longer. He was wearing the actual crown of the previous king.

* * *

"Gavin. I need to tell you something." His brother paused what he was doing and gave Stephen a questioning look. Stephen took a deep breath. "I need you run. Run away, as far from here as you can. Okay?"

"What? What are you going to-why do I have to run?" Gavin had frown lines etched into his face, and Stephen couldn't help but notice how old Gavin looked in that moment, carrying an unseen burden. 

"It's just a precaution, Gavin. I'm not sure if I'm right. But if I am, we'll be in mortal danger."

Gavin smiled faintly. "It's going to be like our adventures we have, right? Just like old times." 

"Yeah. Yeah, it's just like the old times."

He didn't see the shadow slip away from under the window, heading towards the bright lights of the castle.

* * *

"You are on trial for treason and treachery against the king, what do you plead?" The judge announced, her eyes sharp and piercing.

"Not guilty," Stephen announced confidently. He knew he wasn't in the wrong. Judging by the mutters in the jury and the audience, it was an unorthdox answer. He glanced over at the audience, spying a clump of light blue hair. Gavin peered back at him, his face etched with worry. 

"The jury has conferred among themselves, and they have reached their verdict." The audience ceased their chatter, and the entire court seemed to be holding their breath. "The court judges you...guilty. You are sentenced to hang at dawn."

Stephen exhaled and allowed himself to be led towards the holding cells. He caught sight of Gavin and his face shattered Stephen's heart. His eyes were wide, and tears were pouring down his cheeks steadily. His hands were covering his mouth, and even from a distance, Stephen could see him trembling like a leaf. 

* * *

"So, traitor. Have any last words to say to your king?" 

Stephen raised his head wearily. Dan stood in front of him, dressed to the nines in a light blue silk shirt and cuffed pants. He smiled and waved. "Hi, Stephen."

"What do you want, Your Majesty," Stephen muttered wearily. He didn't know why he was in jail, but he was betting that someone had snitched on him.

"Well, I'm here to offer a compromise. You see, how do I put this delicately...?" Dan trailed off. "The people are unhappy. They might be planning to revolt, I don't know. I want you to help me in any way possible. When I ask you to, you will help me."

"What?" Stephen wasn't quite sure if he heard correctly. The way Dan was putting it, Stephen was supposed to be at his every beck and call. 

"You heard me. Will you do it?" Dan smiled gently. "It's either that or you hang at down for treason against me. And maybe I'll take that brother of yours in. What's his name...?"

Stephen's chest felt like hot bands of metal had replaced his ribcage, constricting his lungs and preventing him from breathing. "Don't you dare touch Gavin, you-"

"Ah, ah, ah. I don't think you would want slander against royalty added to your list of crimes, would you? You've already stolen from me," Dan tutted. 

Stephen felt rage coiling around his chest and boiling through his veins. Something inside him was waking up, warmed by the anger he felt. "No, I think I'd rather add murder to it. How about I dispose of a terrible king, huh?"

Dan's eye twitched, but he managed to keep his cool. "A sorcerer. Interesting. You will make a fine addition to my team."

"Sorcery? What are you on about? I don't have magic."

"Sometimes, magic needs a catalyst. I'm guessing your catalyst is anger."

"I'm going to kill you," Stephen seethed. His hands felt warm, and the ropes around his wrists dropped away. He rose to his feet, flexing his hands. Purple magic covered his hands, and sparks flew off the tips of his fingers. 

"Hosuh." The word was spoken so quietly, Stephen struggled to catch it. A man stepped out from behind Dan, his pure white hair standing out against the dingy dungeon. 

"Calm down." Hosuh smiled, his eyes flashing with magic. "Be at ease, Stephen."

"What-" Stephen felt a wave of tranquility crash over him, muffling his senses and dulling his magic. That hot flame inside of him was suffocated, and it flickered and died. It was like he had been thrown behind a glass wall, leaving an empty shell behind. 

* * *

Three days before when Stephen was due to hang, war broke out. The people stormed the castle, aided by the palace guards. They had had enough of Dan and his rule. They razed the castle to the ground, but not before Dan, Stephen and Hosuh escaped the kingdom. They travelled in the forests, trying to lose the armed and bloodthirsty mob behind them.

After a while, they holed up in an abandoned jungle temple and decided to make it their base of operations. Dan withdrew into himself, sketching massive maps on their precious pieces of parchment paper. He would disappear for long hours at a time, and then hide away in his office for days, not eating, sleeping or drinking. 

When he finally emerged, he had the widest smile on his face, tinged with just a hint of hysteria. They were going to make their own kingdom. But for that, they would need an Ace-

"That's why you kidnapped me, isn't it?" 

George started and turned around. Dream had gotten up and hobbled over to them while they were talking. The sun was already setting in the distance, painting the horizon different hues of yellow. 

"Dream, you shouldn't be wandering around." George frowned. "I didn't make a perfect potion of regeneration, so-"

"It's fine. I'm used to getting injuries, just...not like these." Dream sat down, looking up at the twilight sky.

"I don't think you'll suffer permanent damage though. Maybe a little mistiness in your vision, but that should fade. Eventually." Stephen conjured up a small flame and rolled it around his palms, staring at the compressed light. 

"Where will you go?" Stephen's head snapped up at George's question, and he seemed to be considering his answer. 

"I'll pay a visit to my old home." Stephen said at last. "Maybe it's still there. And maybe I can find-" he paused suddenly, his eyes darting around. 

  
  
"Find what, Stephen?" George pressed. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. Dream moved into a crouching position. 

"We have someone looking at us. Look to your right. Slowly," Stephen hissed, drawing a short dagger out of his pocket. George turned his head slightly. He could make out a dark blob in the forest, but to him, it could as well been an animal. Stephen made to move, but stopped when Dream put a hand on his shoulder. 

"No sudden moves. Pretend like we didn't see them," Dream said, sitting back down slowly. Stephen laid the knife on the deck and sat back down again. 

"What's with the robes, Stephen? You look like a necromancer," George said, attempting to revive their conversation. There was a quiet twang, and Dream's arm shot out suddenly, stopping an arrow dripping with a clear liquid inches from George's face. He easily snapped it in half and tossed it overboard. Slowly, his mask swiveled from side to side, and he tapped George's arm. 

"Left now," Dream mumbled. "We should take them." 

"I agree. Then we can interrogate them and maybe get some supplies. I am starving." Stephen picked up his staff and pressed it, toggling a blade as long as George's forearm and grinned, the tiny flame giving his eyes a psychopathic glint. Dream knelt down and tugged a dagger loose, his threads coming loose to curl around his wrist. George's own yellow bracelet shone a little brighter in reaction to Dream's magic. 

The duo stalked into the forest silently, Dream leaping up into the trees, Stephen creeping through the foliage. George watched them go, sitting on the well lit boat.

* * *

Dream crept through the trees, looping threads of glimmering green across the branches to stop them creaking and giving away his location. Below, he was dimly aware of Stephen moving through the undergrowth, and behind him, George was sitting on the boat. The person was directly below him, he was sure of it. He heard the creaking of a crossbow, and rolled off the branch he was on, dropping down directly onto the person.

There was a yelp, and a dull thud as the bolt slammed into the branch where Dream once was. At the same time, Stephen exploded from the undergrowth, his chest heaving. His eyes were glowing purple, and his hands were covered in a liquid layer of purple light. 

"Hosuh?" He said incredulously. Dream looked down. It was indeed Hosuh that he had pinned down, and he looked back at Stephen. The mage had a look of utmost shock, and he lowered his staff.

"Can I eat him?" Dream smiled under his mask. He was only joking, but Hosuh whimpered slightly, a stark contrast to the confident mage earlier that day. 

"Please don't, I swear I'm here to help! Dan's in a drugged sleep, but he's waking up soon," Hosuh begged, putting his hands together. 

"Let him go, Dream. He's not going to hurt us." Stephen crouched down. "What's going on, Hosuh?"

"Dan's pissed, but I think you already know that. You need to come back, Stephen. If you come back now, he can still forgive you." Dream noticed the way the skin around Stephen's mouth tightened. 

"I'm not going back, Hosuh. He isn't who I want to support any longer. I never did," Stephen muttered. 

"You've done it for so long, you might as well see it through to the end, Stephen." Hosuh's tone was playful, but Dream recognised the underlay of magic below the words. 

"I...I guess," Stephen muttered, his staff dropping from his hand altogether. His eyes were dull, and he was swaying gently.

"Exactly. So come back to us. I-no, we need you, Stephen." Hosuh's smile was pleading, but his eyes were glowing slightly. "Now, I need you to kill-" he was cut short when Dream brought his fist upwards, smashing into Hosuh's jaw and snapping his head back. Hosuh's eyes dimmed, and his head lolled back. 

"Wake up, Stephen," Dream snapped his fingers in front of his face. Stephen's eyes cleared, and he looked down at Hosuh's unconscious body. A number of conflicting emotions flitted across his face, and he retrieved his staff. 

"I guess I fell for that, huh? It's just...Hosuh's always been so persuasive, even without his magic. Or maybe he was using magic all this while. I don't know." Stephen made as to grab for Hosuh, but withdrew his hand at the last moment. "What should we do with him?"

"I was thinking of tying him up to a tree and leaving him to untie himself." Dream summoned his magic. "My magic will unravel once it's far enough from me, so no need to worry."

"Okay. Let's do this." Stephen nodded, a determined look coming into his eyes. 

Several minutes later, Dream stood back to admire his handiwork. His eyesight wasn't that good because of the lingering blindness and the darkness, but he could make out a figure swaddled in lime green, hanging from a sturdy tree branch.

"Job well done. Now, let's get back to our journey." Stephen made a show of dusting off his hands and walking back towards the boat. Back on the boat, they found George pacing a hole into the deck, mumbling to himself. When he saw the two of them board the boat wearily, he nearly passed out from relief. 

"You're here! You guys took forever, I was just about to sail the boat off without you." Dream walked over and grabbed George's hand. It was trembling like a leaf, and cold as ice. George slipped his hand out of Dream's grasp, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, my hands shake when I get nervous. It'll stop eventually." He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed. God, why did he get so scared? It's not like they can't take care of themselves. Hell, he should have been worried for himself!

"Here. Drink this." George was interrupted when Stephen shoved a bottle at him, heading up to the oar. The boat shuddered and began to move. George stared at the bottle. The liquid inside was tinged purple-or blue-and it had a strong smell that made George dizzy. 

"Uhm, what's this?"

"It'll help you sleep. You look dead on your feet. Drink it or I knock you out." Stephen drummed his fingers on the oar. George held his breath and downed the entire concoction, choking on the strong metallic fumes. The world spun into colourful whorls, and the last thing he heard was a familiar folk song. 

Dream exhaled heavily, gathering George up in his arms and carrying him to the cabin. George was light, and terrifyingly so; he felt like bones wrapped in paper. He tucked George in, draping the thin blanket onto the sleeping male. After a while, he removed his tattered and stained poncho and draped it over him as well. He closed the door quietly behind him and sat down on the deck, unbuckling his mask and rubbing at the black goo on it with a damp rag. 

They stayed that way for a while: Stephen humming a familiar tune, steering the boat down the river and Dream cleaning his mask, his back turned to Stephen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. The war, huh? First thing I get when I log onto my social media is just blasts of incoherence from the streams. So much to watch, and so little time!


	7. Advancement made: Getting an Upgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe new peeps? Oh, also, warning for swearing this chapter. Enjoy!

George was startled awake by the sound of a boat keel grinding against sand. He sat up, causing bright yellow fabric to slide off of him. He picked up Dream's poncho and draped it over his arm, walking out of the cabin. Stephen and Dream were conversing, and it seemed to be pretty relaxed. He greeted them with a nod, keeping his mouth shut lest he poison them with his breath. 

"Yo. We were waiting for you to wake up." Stephen turned to Dream. "You got the directions?" 

"Yeah. See you around, Stephen." Dream tugged his poncho from George's hands and dropped it over himself, pulling his hood back up. They got off the boat and waved to Stephen, who waved back until his boat rounded a bend and disappeared from sight.

Dream turned to George. "Well. We're about an hour's walk away from Spades. Do you want the scenic route or the faster route?"

"I don't know...Just do whatever you want," George said. 

"Oh c'mon. Okay then." Dream turned on his heel and disappeared into the trees. George followed him, looking around the forest warily. In the daytime, the forest looked innocent enough, with the golden sunlight filtering through the canopy and turning the fog a pale yellow. Well, everything was yellow to him. 

"Hey, Gogy."

"Don't call me that."

"You know how we have a King missing?" Dream glanced back, like he wanted to gauge his reaction. 

"Yes?"

"Just telling you. The position's up for grabs, you know." It took George a few moments to realise what Dream was implying. 

"You-there's...what?" George spluttered. "You're asking me to be the King? Can you even do that?"

"Only if you want to. Ooh, watch the ravine." Dream pulled George away from the lip of a ravine, and George had a flash back to when he was last in a ravine. Those were simpler times. "Besides," Dream continued. "I'm the Ace. I do what I want."

"I'll uhm...think about it?" George wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. Thank him? Start ordering Dream around? What was proper kingly behaviour? But Dream nodded like that answer satisfied him. 

"Okay. I'll wait. But in the meantime, since we're going to be stuck here, let's play a game. I'll ask a question, and you'll have to answer truthfully!" 

George thought for a moment. "Is your real name really Dream?"

Dream didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

"Wait, really?"

"No, actually. What, you thought it was my real name?" 

"Maybe."

"You thought-" Dream broke off and doubled over, leaning against a tree. His shoulders shook as he tried to contain his laughter. It started off slow, then built up to a crescendo and exploded into existence. George watched with growing concern and irritation as Dream fought to breathe through his wheezes. "You thought I was called Dream!"

"Oh my god, shut up!" George stomped away, hiding his face from Dream. He heard Dream's asthmatic wheezing fade away and took several deep breaths. It was a while before he regained his dignity to go back. Dream was seated on a tree branch hanging over the ravine, tossing stones into the void. George resisted the urge to push him in.

"Hey." Dream raised a hand in greeting. "That was an impressive temper tantrum you threw." He tossed another stone into the ravine and got up, walking on the branch with a feline grace. (George re-indulged in his fantasy of shoving Dream off the cliff and ending his troubles.) He hopped onto solid ground and kicked at a tuft of grass. "You're not mad at me...are you?" Dream asked. He actually sounded sheepish, fiddling with the hem of his tattered poncho. 

George frowned. "Of course I'm mad at you! You-you-" 

"Sorry about that. But it is pretty funny that you thought that I was actually called Dream," Dream snickered. 

"What's your real name then?" George expected Dream wouldn't say it. Why would he? He had to keep his identity secret and all. So Dream's answer surprised George. 

"I forgot." 

"You-what?"

"Yeah. I forgot. It's been a while since I actually used my real name." Dream kicked at a rotting twig.

"How old are you?" George asked incredulously. "The stories always say you're the oldest living Royal, but none of them actually say how old you actually are."

"Take a guess. If you guess my name, I'll tell you my age." Dream made a wide sweeping gesture. "Better start guessing!"

"How would you even know your own name?"

Dream pointed. "Oh look. The Spades castle. Race you there!" He sped off, leaving George to half-heartedly jog towards the castle. However, his mind was racing far ahead of him. It seemed that Dream was becoming more and more of an enigma the longer George knew him. Even worse, he didn't seem to be interested in parting with his secrets. He heaved a terrific sigh and sped up, heading towards three figures standing by the massive gate of the castle.

One of them was massive, towering well above George. He had yellowish skin, and his long yellow hair was done up in a braid that reached to his waist. A sword as long and as wide as George's arm dangled from his hip, and an ermine cloak accentuated his already massive figure. A golden crown glittered on his head, encrusted with various gems.

Another had dark brown hair and round, wire-rimmed glasses, and he was wearing military regalia in blue, yellow and white. Currently, he had his coat draped over his arm, and he fanned himself with his other hand. 

The last one didn't look a year over fifteen. He had sandy blonde hair and eyes that were shockingly blue. He caught George's eye and George gulped. He had an intense stare which made him seem more intimidating as he stormed towards George. 

"You friends with the green bitch?" He snarled, jabbing a finger at the castle. The kingly figure and the brunette turned in surprise, catching sight of George. The yellow skinned man had a scar which extended from his lip to his left eyebrow, and another which was spread across the bridge of his nose. His ears were slightly pointed as well, and he had some sort of golden gauntlets on as well. 

"Hey, I'm talking to you, Glasses. Stop looking at the Blade," The feral child growled, his hand straying to his belt, where a pistol's handle poked out. "Or I'll start shooting shit."

"Don't mind Tommy, he's got a bit of a potty mouth on him." The brunette stepped in, placing a firm hand on Tommy's shoulder. "I'm Wilbur, and this is Technoblade. We're here on official business. So if you could kindly point us to the Queen, that would be nice." Wilbur extended a hand, which George shook.

"Actually, I have no idea where the Queen is. I just came from the forest, see. I was trying see where Dream went-" George was interrupted by a silvered barrel being shoved into his face. 

"So you do know where the dickhead is! Where is he!? I have a score to settle with that thieving bastard!" Tommy shouted, shaking the gun barrel. George's eyes followed the barrel hypnotically, and he shrugged helplessly.

"Looking for me, Tommy?" Everyone present snapped their heads upwards, except for Techno. Dream was perched on a branch, swinging his legs. When they looked up, he waved cheekily at them. He caught sight of George, and his face turned to Tommy still holding George at gunpoint. "Why, Georgie. The first thing you do the moment I leave is to get a gun pointed at your head. You really can't go five minutes without throwing yourself into mortal peril, can you?"

"Hey, listen here you green son of a bitch-" Tommy began, but he didn't get far. Dream dropped off the branch, leaping towards Tommy's gun. With one kick, Tommy's gun flew up into the air, and Dream snatched it out of the air and shoved the barrel against Tommy's forehead, who went still at this explosive display of violence.

"No, you listen here you son of a-you child. I am not entertaining your childish antics anymore." Dream's voice was icy cold, with none of the mischievious tone that usually saturated his words. "I didn't steal your discs; I won them, fair and square. End of discussion." George's head swiveled between the two. Was there some unrevealed drama happening?

"Now, you said something about meeting Sapnap?" He turned to Wilbur, who nodded. Dream put the gun into Tommy's hand and gestured for them to follow.

He brought them to a little side gate and led them into the garden. George glanced over at the forest on the compound. Suddenly, it seemed a lot more menacing, and he shuddered. Dream led them down endless corridors and staircases, and just when George felt like his legs were about to snap at his knees, they reached the throne room.

Bad and Sapnap were engaged in conversation, but they stopped when Techno, Wilbur, Tommy, Dream and George trooped in. Techno cleared his throat. "Helloo." His voice was deep, but it lacked...something. George couldn't put his finger on it. 

"Hey Techno, Wilbur, Tommy. What brings you here?" Sapnap rounded the table and stood in front of Techno. 

"The orcs have gotten bolder. They've started raiding deeper and deeper in the kingdom. We need your help. Could you spare a few adventurers to come to the kingdom? We can provide them with lodging and shelter." Wilbur stepped forward. Sapnap's brow furrowed. 

"Of course, we can discuss the logistics." Sapnap made a shooing gesture. "Dream, take your friends to the garden or something. We Queens have to chat." He waved Wilbur into a side room and hustled Bad in with them. The door clicked, and Dream turned to the rest. 

"Well. We could spar," he offered. 

* * *

"Oh you'd better believe I'm going to beat your ass, Big D-"

"Please don't call me that."

"Small D-"

"Not that either."

"D money! I'll wipe the floor with your ass! Watch and learn, Technoblade. Watch a real master at work. You too, glasses boy."

"It's George."

"I'm thrilled to have this opportunity."

George watched as Tommy and Dream geared up, circling each other slowly. Tommy looked confident, his sword hanging loosely in his hand. Dream mirrored his stance, patting his mask in an exaggerated yawn. Tommy's eye twitched, and he lunged at Dream, slamming his sword against Dream's axe. 

"You disrespecting me, huh?" He growled, pressing down on Dream with a flurry of sword swipes, who socked Tommy in the gut and backed away. Tommy seemed winded by the punch to his stomach. But when he looked up, he had a glint in his eye that made George understand why he was wearing the Heart's army uniform so proudly. His entire body was wreathed in a bloody aura, and George swore that he was actually glowing.

"You low-life bastard! Can't even fight fair, huh!?" Tommy swung his sword in a wide arc, completely missing Dream. George watched as Tommy's actions became wilder and more emotional until at last, he was on the grass, Dream's axe against his throat. 

Techno cupped his hands around his mouth. "You were saying something about teaching me stuff?"

"Shut up, Technobitch! I can still beat you in combat!" Tommy stood up, refusing Dream's outstretched hand. "Why don't you come here and fight him then, huh?"

"Alright." Techno stood up, unsheathing his sword. It crackled with enchantments as well, but it had flames rippling along its edge. Techno noticed George looking and smirked. "Fire aspect. Good for killing orphans."

George couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"He's joking," Dream assured. "Probably." He stepped into the roughly scratched out circle, bouncing gently on the balls of his feet. Techno strolled into the circle, testing his sword with his finger. Tommy immediately got up, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

"Get him, Big Man Techno!" He whooped. "Stab him!"

"I really, really pity you right now." Dream turned to Tommy and back to Techno, who still had that apathetic expression. 

"Don't be. He gave me an opening." Techno swung his sword at Dream, aiming for his jugular vein. Dream leant back, expecting the blow. What he did not expect was Techno sweeping him off his feet. Literally. Techno dropped down, kicking out Dream's legs from beneath him. He fell onto his hands and quickly flipped upwards, Techno's blade slicing the air where his head once was. He landed on his feet and was immediately plunged into a fierce swordfight, with neither man wanting to give up. 

The stalemate ended when Dream pushed against Techno's blade and jumped backwards. To George's surprise, Techno brandished a fishing rod and swung it at Dream. It snagged Dream on his shoulder, and Techno reeled him in. He raised his sword and swung it at Dream, who blocked it with a shield he managed to grab at the last second.

George realised he was wringing his hands so tightly they were white. Techno and Dream were almost evenly matched, with Dream a little faster, but Techno making up for it in experience. Dream's actions were more violent and angry, while Techno's were more fluid, more elegant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sapnap and Wilbur walking out, Bad in tow. 

"They're back at it again, huh?" Sapnap stopped beside George, watching the swordfight. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured up a selection of food and drink and waved Tommy over. "Help yourself."

"You ain't so bad, Snapmap," Tommy said, helping himself to a glass of iced tea. 

"Call me Snapmap again and we're going to have problems, Tommy."

Tommy cackled, his laugh coming out in staccato bursts. "Whatever, big man." He turned back to the fight, sipping from his cup. "Big man Techno's going to win. He's the Blade after all."

"Why does he talk funny?" George leant into Sapnap. Unfortunately for him, Tommy heard. 

"What the fuck did you say? I talk funny? That's rich, coming from someone with a name like George!" Tommy rounded on George again, and he was gripping his gun again.

"Ahh! Language, Tommy!" Bad yelped, batting at Tommy.

"No, I-"

"Shush Gogy! Shush Gogy! You're not being baby right now, bitch!" He jabbed his finger into George's chest, accentuating his words with a jab. "Don't disrespect me. I'm a big man! And I've got Big Law on my side," he hissed threateningly. George had no clue who even was Big Law, but Tommy seemed pretty threatening. Anyone would be threatening if they had a gun in their hands. especially if the gun was as long as his own arm.

"TOMMY! Tommy-I sincerely apologise for his behaviour-TOMMY OH MY GOD!" Wilbur jumped forward, yanking Tommy's gun out of his hands and shoving it into his belt. He twisted Tommy's arms behind his back and held him back. 

"Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight," Techno cheered, pumping his fist in the air half-heartedly. Dream chuckled wearily, rubbing his elbow. Apparently their fight was over.

"So, who won?" George's head swiveled from side to side. 

"I did." Techno turned to George, and for the first time, George realised how tall Techno actually was. The high heeled boots he wore only made him taller and more intimidating, and George unconsciously gulped. "He wasn't even close."

"Oh come on, George. You were supposed to be watching! I was going to do all my cool moves!"

"I would rather watch paint dry."

"That makes it sixty wins to forty, Techno," Dream commented, crouching down in front of Tommy. "Don't swear here, little man." He reached out to pat Tommy's head, but promptly removed his hand when Tommy snapped at it. 

"Don't come too close. I bite." He bared his teeth, which had some sort of metal wrapped around it. 

"Oh my god, he's got metal on his teeth." George took a few steps back, just in case.

"Wilbur, let me up or I'm going to tell Phil how mean you are."

"Fine, but you can't attack anyone." He got off Tommy, who sprung up like a tightly wound up spring. "Alright guys, we've got what we wanted, so let's go." Techno shook hands with Dream and followed Wilbur, pulling Tommy behind him.

George waited until they were comfortably out of earshot before daring to speak. "Who's Phil?"

"He's an Ace, and a damn good one. I've never seen someone who's survived so many orc raids," Dream responded. "He's also like the father figure of Hearts. He retired peacefully about...five years ago when he took an orc axe to the knee."

"That's considered retiring peacefully?" George muttered.

"Yeah, he was way more responsible than Dream," Sapnap sniped.

"Hey! You can't just diss your own Ace!"

"I do what I want. I'm the Queen. Now, I take it that George will be staying for a while? Show him to one of our guest rooms, Dream."

"What am I, an esquire?" Nevertheless, he still waved George over and headed into the palace. "What kind of room would you like?" He turned to look at George. 

"Uhm...what kind of room do you have? Can I see?" George asked, trying to get a look at some of the doors that were ajar. 

"I'm not looking for a bunkmate, in case you were wondering." George said nothing, fighting back a furious blush colouring his cheeks. "But welcome to the Tower, I guess." Dream pushed open a stout wooden door, waving vaguely. 

The whole room was circular, and all the bookshelves and racks were curved to fit to the walls snugly. The bookshelves were stuffed full of books and various knick knacks. A corner of the tower had a potions stand beside it, and the white stone walls were streaked with black. A dark yellow and worn out carpet was spread over the pale stone bricks. He looked up and a dark wooden ceiling greeted him, arching above his head and disappearing into the darkness above.

"This place looks..."

"Lovely?"

"Neater than I expected." George went over to the carpet and prodded at the fabric gingerly. The fabric sank underneath his touch, and he looked up at Dream. "What material is this?"

"It's like a mix between wool and cotton. Neat, right?" He walked over to a section of the wall curtained with heavy drapes, and pulled the thick black fabric apart. A modest bed greeted him, unlike anything George was expecting. The Ace's Tower was less luxurious than he expected.

"Are there any rooms nearby?"

"Yeah, there's one directly down the hall. It's pretty small though." Dream pushed open the door and stood back to let George in. Dream was right. It was small, but not uncomfortably so. There was a bed wedged up against a corner of the room, with dark blue sheets. A tiny bedside table had a stained glass lamp, its beauty lost on George. 

"I'll take it."

Dream looked at George weirdly, but he didn't care. It felt cosy in here, and there was a view of the Forest from a window. "Alright then. Here's your key and stuff, in case you want to, I don't know, lock yourself in. Your training resumes tomorrow."

"Wait, training?"

Dream paused with his hands on the door. "Of course. Now that I'm back, we're going on an adventure everyday. Life never stands still for the Ace."

George watched the door close behind him and sank into a chair, letting the words sink in. When they finally caught up with him, he gasped loudly and bolted out of the door. "DREAM! I don't have anything on me!"

In the distance, he could hear the familiar wheezing of the annoying Ace.


	8. Achievement unlocked: We're being attacked!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, a little bit of trauma and a mild swearing. Drama is here, boys, gals and nonbinary peeps!

"What is this place?" George looked around the massive halls in wonder. Was everything in Spades this big? The halls were made out of some dark wood, and torches were placed in sconces, illuminating the plcae in a warm glow. 

"It's the hallowed halls of the Royal Adventurer Guild, or RAG for short," Dream replied. George snorted. 

"So who's the leader?"

"I am."

"Does that make you the..." George trailed off, smiling mischeviously. "Rag-man?"

Dream groaned. "You have no idea how many people have called me that. Rag-man? Really?"

"It is kind of funny." A man carrying a pile of papers piped up. He and George shared a smile, though it was hard to see the other man's face, since he was wearing a mask. In fact, his whole outfit was cut from dark cloth and clung to his skin. Belts crisscrossed his body, similar to Dream's, but they seemed purely for aesthetic reasons. 

"Illumina, don't make me demote you to toilet cleaning duty."

"Oh please, you wouldn't get anything done without me around." Illumina retorted. "I do all the administrative work around here; without me, the whole guild would collapse." He shared a conspiratorial wink with George. 

"Alright, I appreciate you very much Illumina. There, you happy?" Dream stalked away to a large wooden board with hundreds of papers pinned up. 

"Is he bringing you on an adventure? You'd better get going, you wouldn't want Dream to get you to fight the Wither or something on your first day. Bye!" Illumina hurried away, disappearing into the crowds of people milling around. George moved to Dream's side, feeling slightly out of place. 

"So...two questions," George started. "One, am I your apprentice or a new recruit? Two, what are we doing here, exactly?"

"Both very good questions. Ah! Here's one I think you can do. It's just investigating an ocean monument." Dream ripped off the piece of paper he had been looking at and carried it over to a small booth. "Hi Fundy."

Fundy looked up, and George resisted the urge to reach out and touch his ears. Were they real? "Hello Dream! How was your day?"

"Just great. Could you kindly stamp here? This shows that the job has been taken." Dream directed the last part at George, who nudged him hard. Fundy's ears drooped, and he gloomily pressed the stamp against the paper. Dream scooped up the paper and immediately left, but George lingered, trying to figure out how to talk to Fundy.

George decided to start off safe. "Are you okay?" Fundy looked up, as though he was surprised that anyone had even bothered to talk to him. 

"Are you just asking so that you can ask why I look part fox?"

"Well, partly," George admitted. "But after that situation with Dream..." He trailed off. Fundy chuckled tiredly and scratched at the base of his ears. 

"It's all my fault, really. I went on a job with him, asked if he'd like to go out for dinner with me, one thing led to another and well," he gestured to himself. "Here I am, working an admin job in a guild and wasting my potential as a Channeler." He chuckled sadly. 

"You wanna know what I think?" George leant in, beckoning Fundy closer. "I think you should forget Dream. Well, maybe not, but at least don't be so obsessed over him. There's plenty of fish in the sea." 

"George! Come on!" Dream waved him over. Fundy gave him a sad smile. 

"Go on. And thanks for your advice; I'll try to do what you said." George hurried away, casting a final look at Fundy, who was already busy with another adventurer. He caught up with Dream, who was heading into the forests. 

"So...what are we doing out here Dream?" George looked at the flyer. "What is that?" 

"Shut up, George!" Dream hissed, motioning for him to crouch. They hid behind a bush, peering out through the gaps of the branches. They didn't have to wait long. Heavy footsteps shook the forest floor, and George peeped out from behind the bush.

A huge grey creature lumbered past him, accompanied by a group of crossbow-wielding humanoids. They had slate grey skin, and their noses were large and bulbous. Their eyebrows were greatly exaggerated, and their clothing were a mixture of grey and blue. George sank back down, looking at Dream.

"What are those things?" He was shushed by Dream, but it was too late. The creature turned, and George caught sight of murky green eyes, glaring right at him. He felt a tugging sensation, and he was yanked violently into a tree. He whined quietly, but Dream shushed him, putting a hand to his mouth. 

"A ravager, and the people surrounding it are pillagers. They will kill you, so keep quiet." Dream peeked out from between two branches. When one particular pillager walked beneath the tree, Dream reached out and snagged the piece of cloth hanging from a banner frame on its back, throwing the silky fabric at George. He unfolded the cloth and stared at it. A pillager face stared back at him. Dream didn't speak at all, not until the patrol had gone and left them. 

"Some poor village is going to get razed to the ground," Dream observed, hopping down from the tree. He helped George down from the tree and headed in the opposite direction of the patrol. 

"Wait!" Dream turned to look at George. "Shouldn't we help them?"

"What? Why?" 

"Because they're going to be raided! And you're the Ace!" Dream exhaled for so long George thought he was wheezing. 

"Look, George. I don't have time to save some tiny village."

"What? Because you're too busy, off saving the world? You don't even have time for your own people? I came from a 'tiny village' you know!" George's voice was rising, and his fists were clenched. 

"Yeah? Do you have any idea how hard it is, being the Ace?" Dream advanced on George, his hand straying to his axe. This did not go unnoticed by George.

"Yeah, it must be hard, living in the Capital, swaddled in silks and getting stuffed like a turkey! I bet my life would have been way easier if you didn't find me!"

"If I didn't find you, you'd be dead! Be grateful I saved you!"

"You only saved me because you wanted a king!" Dream seemed frozen by this accusation, but George ploughed on. "Yeah, you heard me. You only saved me because you wanted a puppet to rule the kingdom. You say I have a choice, but all of this is just to train me to become your obedient-"

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP," Dream roared. He strode forward and grabbed George by the front of his shirt. "You have no idea what I've gone through, and you think that your miserable little life can compare to mine? Well I have news for you, Gogy. Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows in the fucking Capital. I should know."

He dropped George after that, his chest heaving. The Forest was silent, as though it was holding its breath. Abruptly, Dream turned on his heel and stormed through the Forest. George got up and stared at his retreating back. 

"Fine then! I'll save the village myself!" George shouted into the trees, turning on his heel and marching towards the direction of the patrol. As he walked, he fumed silently. How dare he? Dream thought life in the village was so great, didn't he? He probably never had to fight off pestilence before, or watch as their loved ones wasted away from disease. Of course he wouldn't. He couldn't. Dream was living in luxury, worrying his head over petty troubles.

"Stupid Dream, and his stupid mask, with his stupid ideas," George fumed, stopping every once in a while to check their tracks. Easy enough, considering how the ravager left plenty of large hoofmarks for George to follow.

The path George was on was nothing more that a tiny hunting trail, well frequented by the number of grooves carved into the rocks and trees nearby. He spotted the village in the distance and made for it, pausing beside the village well. The villagers gave the red faced traveller some strange looks, but they walked past him.

Where was the raid? George climbed onto the top of the well, looking around. Why were the villagers looking at him? 

"Bad omen."

"He's got it."

"Why is he here?"

"They're going to come."

Someone climbed up behind him and there was a sharp tug on his pack. He turned around, and saw the flag in a villager's hand. Over the distance, drums started pounding. The villagers turned to look at George accusingly, their voices rising in fear and anger. The same villager thrust the flag back into George's arms and jumped off.

"Monster!"

"You've doomed us all!"

"Bad omen!"

George jumped off the well and was immediately pulled around, the villagers running around. He looked over the hill, and there it was. The patrol from before, but this time, they brought others with them. There were grey skinned pillagers in coats, and some were wearing dark robes with gold stripes on them. A horn sounded, and they headed down the hill. 

The raid had begun.

George ran through the streets, but this time, the villagers were running too. There were pillagers with axes, and they chopped down the doors. Someone had overturned a bucket of coals, and the houses towards the east were already burning. He heard the creak of a crossbow being primed, and leapt to the side. The arrow clipped his shoe and embedded itself into something else with a wet squelch. A mournful keen of pain came from behind, and George realised the arrow was deep in a cow's flank.

He scrambled through the streets, slipping on the slick cobblestone. Someone thrust a bucket of water into his hands, and he threw it onto the nearest fire he could see and dropped the bucket. Tiny grey sprites soared through the air, their tiny stone swords raised. One made a dive at him, and he escaped by falling onto his back and scrambling into a house.

A pillager standing over a body turned to him, its axe glistening with blood. George glanced behind it, and the gruesome image was forever seared into his mind. The villager was lying facedown in a pool of her own blood, her arm bent at an alarming angle. Her face was turned to George, and as he watched, the last vestiges of light faded from her eyes and they seemed to stare into his soul. The flames threw frightening shadows onto the walls, and the temperature grew uncomfortably warm. Tears threatened to spill from George's eyes as he watched the pillager bend its arm back, the axe swinging down in a slow arc, straight towards his head.

Dream was right. He shouldn't have come here. They had been so happy. He had ruined their happiness. But George still jumped backwards, his survival instincts kicking in. The axe bit into the wooden floor and cracked it. The pillager advanced, but someone's hand grabbed the axe and neatly snapped it off at the handle. The blade fell onto the floor, and the pillager stared at his now useless stick dumbly.

The pillager didn't stand a chance. With one quick chop, Dream dispatched the pillager, splattering George with blood. The Ace himself was covered in blood, and he was breathing heavily. George felt like he was disconnecting from his body, and he was watching from above as Dream pulled George out, cutting down any pillager who stood in their way. 

* * *

They made their way to a thickly wooded area and into a clearing. Dream glanced back at George. He had surprisingly not said a single word since Dream had pulled him out of the burning village. He sat George down and opened a flat satchel, withdrawing a roll of linen and some medicinal salve.

George had been burned pretty badly, and Dream applied the healing salve liberally onto the angry red patches. He used half of the bandage to wrap up George's and his own wounds, and the other half, he used his water canteen to dampen it and rub the blood off George's face. The blood on his clothes couldn't be washed off, but the ocean would take care of that. Speaking of the ocean...Dream stood up, taking off his poncho. It was going to stink in the morning unless he washed it now. He draped a thin blanket over George's shoulders before heading out. 

He dropped his poncho into the water and swirled it around, watching the rusty patches diffuse into the spring. George had started a raid, and it was because of that flag. He scrubbed off a particularly stubborn stain and squeezed it dry, dropping it over his arm. Maybe he had some extra clothes for George? At that exact same moment, a piercing scream brought Dream to his feet, running for the tiny campfire in the woods. He slipped through a tiny gap in the magic barrier, his entire body primed for battle. 

The only thing he saw was George, curled into himself. His mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Dream couldn't understand why George was hyperventilating. He traced George's line of sight and things clicked. The blanket he'd draped over George was the pillager flag. Slowly, he moved towards George, who had stopped screaming. He rocked back and forth, ocassionally moaning gently. Dream settled down beside George, wrapping an arm around him. To his surprise, George flung his arms around Dream, squeezing him tightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please I didn't mean to- I'm sorry Dream," George cried, clinging to him. Dream rubbed circles into George's back, soothing him quietly. Dream considered himself an expert in many things. But when it came to comforting people, he drew a blank. Still, he held George in his arms, murmuring to the distraught male.

"Shhh. You'll be okay, Georgie. Breathe. Breathe."

"I- I don't...I killed them, Dream. I summoned the raid on them. It's all my fault," he laughed, but the sound was weak and watery. "Some hero I am." He punched Dream, but it was so light he could barely feel it. "I shouldn't have done that. Stupid, stupid stupid stupid stupid-"

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." With great difficulty, George looked up at Dream, who took off his goggles. His eyes were swimming in tears, and tear tracks streaked his face. "It wasn't your fault, okay? Nod if you understand." He received a nod.

"You didn't know what was going on, did you?" A shake.

"Did you try to help?" A slight nod.

"Did you feel terrible?" Vigorous nodding. 

"There you go." Dream smiled underneath his mask. "Granted, you did start the raid, but you tried to help them. They will rebuild. And the Capital will send funds to them. I'll make sure of it. Okay?" George nodded, but this time, he didn't lift his head back up. Gentle snores started up, and Dream laid George down, draping his poncho over George. 

He climbed up a tree and took off his mask, savouring the cool night air on his face. The moon was rising, bathing everything in a silvery light. The fog that drifted through the forest had turned a marble white, with the shadows streaking it at odd intervals. Crickets called out to each other, and the distant hoot of an owl could be heard.

Dream disregarded all of that and reached deeper, tapping into the ancient pathways of magic that ran through the world. His vision flickered and he could see the silvery wind currents, the aqua of water magic in the river and his own brand of magic, neon green against the dark greens of the forest. He focused his sight on George, who was a dark grey amidst the vibrant colours of the world.

No, that wasn't quite right. He had a bright core, almost blinding to look at. The colour shifted from aqua to navy blue to a deep purple to lilac. And over that, a thin layer of neon green, presumably from the trace of magic around his wrist. Dream disconnected gently, feeling the vertigo that came with deactivating the Sight. He hunkered down onto a tree and tucked his mask away, closing his eyes. 

* * *

"Hey George. we're here." Dream nudged George, who snapped out of his reverie. The ocean stretched out in front of them, its surface glassy and placid.

"It's...so blue." George stepped closer to the water, swirling his hand into the water. "And it's warm." He looked up at Dream, and boy was Dream relieved that George's eyes seemed to have regained that familiar sparkle.

They made their way along the beach, holding their shoes in their hands and paddling in the waves that lapped at their ankles like an excited puppy. George splashed Dream jokingly, and he splashed George back. After the horrors of last night, this was nice: splashing around, just goofing off. George appreciated the way Dream took his mind off things. His methods, though a little unconventional, worked wonders.

He picked up a purple conch shell and dropped it into his boot, where dozens of blue and purple shells were already inside. Dream dropped his boots on the shore and waded in, going up to his knees, his waist, until he eventually disappeared underwater. George sat down to count his shells and dust the sand off them, trusting Dream would be back.

* * *

Dream looked around the underwater reef. Colourful shoals of fish swam past him, looking like flickers of fragmented light. Towers of corals arched this way and that, and anemones danced in the currents. He kicked down, gently easing himself between the gaps in the reef. The tiny plateau the reef was on ended abruptly and dropped down into a flat plain, too dark to see anything on the bottom. But in the distance, there was a shape that looked too concentric to be natural. He turned back to the coral, a few bubbles of air escaping his lips. He wondered if George would like swimming.

* * *

"George~" Dream emerged from the ocean, dripping wet. He ran over to George and pulled on his hand. "Come on! Let's go swim!"

"Wait! Don't- let's not be hasty." George wormed out of Dream's grip and looked at the ocean, biting his bottom lip. 

"George, come on. Your clothes are going to stink. Besides, aren't you hot from walking in the sun all day?" Dream was already knee deep in the ocean, his bright yellow poncho floating around him in the water. He looked like a lily pad. A bright yellow lily pad in the middle of the ocean.

"Okay...but you can't let me go, understand?"

"You wish is my command, Your Majesty."

George allowed himself to be led into the water. He tried his best to walk slowly and not betray any fear, but his hand felt cold and clammy in Dream's hand. When the water reached chest height, he gasped. The water felt like it was squeezing his lungs and preventing him from breathing. Something brushed past his leg, and he all but jumped onto Dream. 

"Dream!! Something just touched me, I don't like this oh no-"

"George, calm down! It was just a fish!" Dream laughed, detaching George from him and placing him onto the sand. "Okay, I'm going to let go of you now."

"No wait-" Dream let go, and George immediately dropped into the ocean. He opened his mouth to scream, but water gushed into his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, inhaling water. Dream pulled him out of the predicament he was in, and he spluttered a thanks. 

"George," Dream began seriously. "Do you not know how to swim?"

"No!"

"Wait, really?" 

"YES!" George could almost see the cogs whirring Dream's head, storing that information away. He lived in a village in the forest. The only bodies of water he'd ever seen were lakes or rivers, shallow enough to go in waist deep.

"C'mere. I'll teach you." Dream let out George, letting him drift in the waves. "Now, relax. You're going to sink like a stone if you don't." He guided George through the basics of staying afloat.

"Alright, I'm going to slowly let go now. You ready?"

"No, Dream I'm-" Dream let go again, and George braced himself for the onslaught of salt. To his surprise, he managed to stay afloat. Dream clapped enthusiastically, and George looked up at him. 

"You did it! C'mere." Dream made grabby hands and drifted a little farther outwards towards the ocean. George started an awkward doggy paddle towards Dream, throwing himself into the yellow clad man's arms. 

"I did it," George breathed, hardly daring to believe. "I can swim now."

"I wouldn't say swim, exactly, but you wouldn't drown if you got thrown into a lake."

"I didn't ask for this. Celebrate with me, Dream." George let go of Dream, kicking away from the yellow clad man. He dove down into the water and wove between the coral reefs, lamenting the fact that he couldn't see the corals in all their beauty. He made for a dark blue one, climbing over the twisting structures. He peered out of the ocean, his eyes just barely breaking the water. Dream was still where George had left him, but he swam towards the coral reef, looking around for George. 

George submerged again, his eyes stinging from the saltwater. He pushed his goggles down, clearing the water out of his eyes. Immediately, he saw Dream swimming towards him like a massive yellow fish. Forgetting he was underwater, George screamed. Unluckily for him, when he was panicked, his body didn't listen to his brain, and he flailed about the ocean. Dream lifted him up casually.

"Caught you," Dream sang, making his way to the shore. George sighed and relaxed himself. "I was thinking..."

"That's a surprise."

"Shut up. I was thinking. Let's postpone the ocean monument."

"What? Why?"

"Just." George looked up, and he could see Dream staring into the distance. "I think we've gone through enough. Besides, I can just clear the monument myself some other day. We'll stick to the castle for now, how about that?"

"That sounds great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for 1500+ reads and like, a 100 kudos :')


	9. Achievement unlocked: Ahoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New characters!! We're getting close to an important event now! :D

"George!" 

George looked up, and seeing Illumina there, he closed the book he was reading. "Hi Illumina. What do you need?"

"I need to run real quick, so could you help me take care of these papers for a while? I won't be a moment." He dropped the stack of papers on the table George was using. 

"Sure, where are you going?" George rearranged the stacks of paper, watching Illumina stretch and loosen his limbs like he was preparing for a sprint. 

"The harbour." 

"But that's..." George frowned, running calculations quickly. "That's like two hours on foot, down a mountain."

"Not if you run. They don't call me speedrunner for nothing." and he was gone, flickering out of George's vision in the blink of an eye. George looked around the hall, but no one seemed to bat an eye. He made his way over to Fundy, who seemed to be having a break. 

"Hey, Fundy?"

Fundy perked up. "Oh, how can I help you, ah, I believe your name was George?"

"Yeah, so Illumina just disappeared." George pointed to his table, where his mug was balanced on the teetering stack of papers. "And left me his work."

Fundy sucked a breath in through his teeth, twisting the end of his tail thoughtfully (since when did he have one?). "Yeah, that happens a lot. He'll be back."

"Am I-am I supposed to do his work for him?" George eyed the stack of paper. He liked Illumina a lot, but if the man was trying to offload work onto him...

"No, no, no," Fundy chuckled. "Just give him some time, he's probably off collecting one of those many deliveries he seems to have." George nodded and headed back to his table, taking a sip of his spiced mead. Outside, a thunderstorm raged, and George wondered what Illumina would need to collect in this abyssmal weather. 

* * *

Dream was crouched in a tree, surveying the camp below him. Rainwater dripped down the leaves and onto his hair. The rain obscured vision, but a quick peek in the elemental plane allowed him to locate them and make sure he was hidden.

The people below him were treasure hoarders, and quite an organized crime group. They were outlaws who wanted some magic to help them on their way, or adventurers who left the guild. These people raided without thought for anything else, and more often than not, they would bring horrific curses onto the surface, unleashing them on some unsuspecting village. 

Dream pulled his hood up and secured his mask to his face, dropping down onto the wet grass silently. Two guards, heading his way. He briefly considered taking them out with his crossbow before dismissing it. It had been a literal nightmare when he had to oil and clean his crossbow after that time he used it in a covert undercover mission.

Instead, he unsheathed two daggers and pinned them each with a dagger to their throats. They went down, clutching at their throats. Two down. He waited a few moments before moving, sneaking around the sides of the camp. He raised his hand to lob a bomb into the midst of the camp before something halted him. 

Illumina had just emerged from a tent, and he shook hands with who he assumed was the leader before heading down the path. Dream watched him disappear, and looked at the camp. He sheathed the tiny dagger and removed the massive axe on his back. No survivors. 

He dropped down into the camp, and ignoring the shouts of the treasure hoarders, made for the leader. In one clean move, he decapitated him. Turning to the horrified members, he advanced towards them. With a twitch of his fingers, the whole camp was surrounded in what seemed like an invisible barrier to them. They stood no chance. 

Dream dismissed the threads with a flick of his wrist. He was breathing heavily, and he pulled off his mask. Rain pattered onto the red splatters on the white, washing the blood off the smile on its face. Everyone was dead. He'd made sure to leave no survivors. He replaced his mask again and headed for the road, hoping to track down Illumina. He wanted in on what the ninja was up to.

For a long time, the only sound was of his boots squishing in the mud path and his own laboured breathing. Then another sound made itself known to him. A tune being whistled, accompanied the squelching of the person's boots. 

Dream didn't bother beating around the bush. "Nice weather out for a stroll, isn't it."

"Hey Dream." Definitely Illumina's voice. "Fancy seeing you around here."

"What were you doing with those people there earlier?" Dream asked pleasantly, making no move to speed up or slow down.

Illumina chuckled. "Okay, I see now. Go away Dream."

"No, I don't think I will." Illumina stopped, as did Dream. Silence ensued between the two men. "Illumina. What are you up to?" Dream took a step forward. 

"Go away, Dream," Illumina said softly. "If you must know, I'm not doing anything illegal. I will fight you." 

"Oh come on now. You don't wanna." Dream smiled underneath his mask, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. "I just murdered all those people you were dealing with, Illumina. I killed them in cold blood, and I won't hesitate to do the same if I deem you a threat to the Spades."

Illumina chuckled. "I was counting on it. They were going to double cross me anyway. Alright, I'll bite. The harbour, midnight. No lights."

"You're on." Dream watched Illumina literally phase out of existence before retrieving a fist-sized orb from his satchel. He lobbed the enderpearl towards Spades and disappeared in a cloud of purple mist.

* * *

Dream decided to make a stop at the guild to see what was George up to. He had left the male there before leaving for the mission, claiming that he wouldn't be a moment. He wondered what George was up to. George had thrown himself into the library studies, reading every book he could get his hands on.

He pushed the door open and stepped in, grateful to escape the thunderstorm. He looked around for George, but he spotted Illumina. Typical of the speedster to reach before Dream, and he was completely dry. That irked him. Illumina shifted slightly, and George appeared, chatting animatedly with him. Dream headed towards George, squeezing out the ends of his poncho surreptitiously. 

"-so cool! You work two jobs?"

"Yeah, one here, one at the harbour."

"Dream! Good to see you. I was just chatting with Illumina, and apparently he works at the harbour, refilling ships. That is so cool!" George's eyes were sparkling underneath his goggles, and suddenly, his gaze turned pleading. Dream grimaced and braced himself.

"No. Definitely not."

"Please can I go?" George pushed out his lip, which made him look like a child about to cry. 

"No. Stop. Cease." Dream shook his head. This was how he had emerged from the Sugarplum Star, the local sweet shop with his money bag significantly lighter and George carrying a bag with approximately half the sweet store in it.

"Let him go, Dream. He's an independent man," Illumina piped up.

"Oh my god, not you too Illumina." Dream was fighting a losing battle, he knew it. And from the self-confident smirk on George's face, he knew it too. "No, I mean it."

* * *

George got himself comfortable on a crate, watching the harbour. Dream had dropped him off rudely and run off. But Dream did say he was looking out for a ship, so George kept a careful eye out for any incoming ships. 

"Stupid Dream, with his hundreds of useless assignments," George grouched, opening the book he had on his lap and squinting at the words, trying to read them in the dim lighting. 

"What are you reading?" George nearly had a heart attack, seeing Illumina appear out of thin air in front of him. 

"It's 'A History of Magic in Spades'." George looked down at the book. "I'm trying to learn more about the laws of magic." 

"Aha! Did Dream put you up to that?"

"No, this is my own little project. I guess you could call it a hobby?" George closed the book and looked at the golden embossing on the cover. "Every time I go on one of Dream's adventures, I nearly get myself killed, all because I have no idea what to do."

Illumina nodded sympathetically. He understood how that felt, being thrown into an adventure headfirst and having to figure out what to do on your own. The Adventure Guild was pretty much sink or swim. Being with Dream, the literal spirit of the Guild must be a nightmare. "Tell you what. I'll scrounge out a copy of the handbook for you. It's got all the more common mobs you'll find in the trade and what you should do when you meet them, so you can give it a read some time."

"Thank you." George smiled up at Illumina, who shrugged. 

"Just helping out a fellow adventurer. Oh and get some sleep George. You look like you need it." Illumina disappeared into the darkness again, leaving George to continue reading. Illumina wasn't wrong about the fact that he needed to get more sleep. But every time he closed his eyes... he shuddered. Best not to think about it.

"George! Come here," Dream called out, waving George over. "And bring that light here." Reluctantly, George lifted the lantern and walked over to Dream, setting it down between them.

"The ship is here." George squinted at the ocean, trying to make out the shape of a ship in the sea fog. A dim glow lit up the fog, and the prow of a ship sliced through the fog.

It was a massive ship, with three masts and cannons lined along its belly. Tiny figures leaped and pirouetted through the air, securing the sails and lowering a piece of wood. Dream tossed a cloak at him and hissed at him to put it on. The hood had two strange bulges, but George thought nothing of it. It was only when Dream started snickering did he wonder what those bulges were. 

"What's going on Dream? Stop laughing at me!" George glanced nervously over the crate they were hiding behind. 

"Cat...cat-" Dream sounded like he was choking. "Catboy Gogy-" was all he managed to get out before deflating pathetically. George's hands shot up to his hood and touched the protrusions. They felt vaguely triangular, and they were warm. George lost it when they twitched away from his touch. 

"Dream! Why are these- these things on my hood!" He caught hold of both of them, holding them flat against his head. 

"For later!" Dream pulled on his hood as well, revealing that he had cat ears on as well. "It's a disguise, I promise. And not just because I wanted to mess with you."

"How did you make them move anyway?"

"I got Sapnap to enchant a pair of ears onto the hood. They're fake, don't worry." Dream looked over the crate again, and pulled George to his feet. "C'mon. Let's go." They made their way over to where Illumina was standing in a circle of light, the crew of the ship gathered around him.

"-there are. Ah! Here are the people I was telling you about. Gentlemen, this is Dream and George." Dream inclined his head, and George waved. 

"They are the ones?" The foremost figure turned to Illumina, who nodded. They turned to Dream and George and gave them a quick once over. "Good. They will do nicely." A foreign accent was laid thick over his words.

"Wait, where are we going?" George protested as two of the people stepped forward and grabbed George by his arms. He let out an indignant squawk and craned his neck to look for Dream. "Hey! Why did you let Dream walk freely?"

"Because they trust me, Gogy." Dream bounced up the gangplank, settling down on the railing. On the side of the ship, the words 'Merry Men' were stencilled on in flamboyant golden script. Dream and George were hustled into the captain's cabin and the door was shut. 

"Thank you for dealing with that, Stampy." The person behind George bowed. The source of the voice was from behind a desk, and for a moment, the sound of a quill scratching against parchment was the only sound. The person dipped their quill into an inkwell and stood up.

"Hello. My name is Antfrost, and I am the captain of the Merry Men." 

"You're a cat." Those were the first words out of George's mouth. Stampy hissed threateningly behind him, and George cringed away from the scrape of a sword being withdrawn from a sheath. 

Antfrost chuckled. "At ease, Stampy. Yes, I am a cat, as is everyone else on this ship." He stepped closer to George, the lamp swinging above throwing light onto his features. He had startlingly blue eyes, and his hair faded from a mahogany brown around his scalp to a chocolate brown at the tips. He was wearing a cuffed silk shirt and a long coat, not unlike the pirates in fairy tales. 

He held his hand out for George, and when he took it, the pads of his hand were leathery and warm, and his hand felt fuzzy, like a peach. Tiny pinpricks alerted George to the fact that yes, they had claws.

"Antfrost, huh? What are we doing here?" Dream looked out the tiny circular window, watching the dark waves lap at the side of the ship. "I'm guessing this isn't some holiday cruise."

Antfrost smiled benignly. "I assume you're aware of the situation in Reginales?" 

"No, actually. But please, enlighten me and George."

"Very well. Stampy, could you get us some tea? That's a good lad. You can join us afterwards." George sat down in one of the chairs Antfrost had pulled up, looking back just in time to catch a flash of yellow disappear around the door. 

"Alright. Where do I start?"

"What happened in Reginales?" Dream asked brusquely. George shot him a look.

"Reginales. My homeland. Before...the disease."

"Oh, I know this one!" George snapped his fingers excitedly. "It was a terrible plague that swept through the land. But it didn't kill anyone, just the plants around water. Without water, other plants withered and plunged the land into a great famine."

"How do you know this?" Dream demanded.

"'A History of Magic in Spades'. It was mentioned in a small chapter." George pushed Dream jokingly. "Really, Dream. You should know this."

"I am not sticking my nose into dusty old books for some random piece of information that I won't use on adventures."

"Well, George is quite right. Our land was a democratic one, unlike your Kingdoms, with your monarchy. The government collapsed, and the land descended into anarchy." Cats didn't have a lot of expressions, but Antfrost looked downcast. "It became a lawless land, with every cat fighting for themselves. National treasures and heirlooms became worthless, and everything was pawned to buy food."

"What does this have to do with all of this?" Dream gestured to the ship. George elbowed him in the side. 

"Shh! I want to hear it."

"Tea's here." Stampy elbowed the door open, a tray balanced on his hands. This was the source of that voice back on the docks, though the foreign accent was gone.

Stampy was a cat with yellow and white hair. He had an eyepatch on, and his one eye was yellow. Antfrost took a sip from the tea and sighed, nursing the steaming mug. "Where was I? Oh yes. This has been going on for ten years already."

"Sweet God," George mumbled, taking a sip of his tea. It had a minty taste, with an earthy undertone. 

"So we made an appeal to Illumina. We needed help, to install a new government. The people are getting weary. They want rest. They want order."

"And he dropped us into this madhouse. Alright. What do we need to do? Diplomacy? Gifts? Bribery?" George counted on his fingers.

Antfrost frowned. "I hope that was a joke, for your own sake."

"He's joking," Dream cut in. "We're obviously called in to diplomatically resolve this. Reginales was our trade port after all, before they uh...collapsed."

"Actually, we might have to resort to more strong armed tactics."

Dream nodded sagely. "So we have to use assassination. Got it."

"Can't we use it as a last resort? I don't like killing." 

Dream snorted. "We'll see the state of things and determine what we have to do."

* * *

"Land-ho!" George jerked awake, looking out of the tiny porthole. A harbour came into view, and joined Dream on deck. The harbour was eerily empty, and George half expected them to get mugged as they walked down the wooden boardwalk. Even though there was on one in sight, George's skin crawled with invisible endermites. 

"Stay close, George," Dream warned, his hand straying towards the handle of his axe. George didn't need to be told twice. He didn't calm down, not until Antfrost led them into a massive mansion. 

"Okay, guys. We're safe in here. Welcome to our safehouse." Antfrost tossed their supplies onto a table, shrugging off his coat. "So, here's the dorms where my friends and I sleep, and here's the map room. This was actually an old forest mansion that we converted."

"What- what happened to the previous occupants?" George looked around the empty rooms and the people that were wandering around the halls. The grim look on Antfrost's face told him what happened to the previous occupants. 

"We've got a lot of spare rooms, so you can have your pick." 

Dream immediately ran off, looking into every room and hallway and opening and closing doors. George explored, but not at the same rate at Dream.

He climbed up the sweeping grand staircase one step at a time, looking at the little ornaments and the subtle touches on the architecture. George looked around, heading towards a random door. 

On the other side, there was a massive cube of lava roiling slowly in the glass cube, the whole structure reinforced by a black glassy rock. The whole room was taken up by the contraption, and after a while, George could detect a faint humming coming from the cube. He closed the door, feeling distinctively warmer than when he'd come in. He wandered down the hall a little more, opening another door. 

This one led into a bedroom, tastefully furnished with birch and dark oak. The four poster bed looked so inviting with its silk sheets and feathery looking pillows that George didn't bother to wash, choosing to flop onto the bed and drift into sleep. 


	10. Achievement unlocked: Librarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for over 2k reads! It means a lot to me T_T
> 
> enjoy this arc and the new characters it brings! Also, kudos to you if you can guess where the location at the beginning is ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be gore in the chapter, if you don't want to read it, skip to "George leapt out of his covers,"

George opened his eyes, blinking the sleep sand out of them. An unfamiliar place greeted him. A wooden bridge overgrown with vines spanned a river, and on the other side, a desert stretched out, numerous structures scattered around the sand around the bridge, including a stable, a throne carved from sandstone and a ring of black stone, the insides a dark blue.

George looked behind him and stifled a gasp. Two glass tubes stretched to the sky, supporting a castle made of black stone. The castle itself was resting on a cloud of some strange, organic looking, yellow material.

"Hi!"

George leapt a foot into the air, turning around to face-

"Dan?" The King of Diamonds waved enthusiastically, a smile creasing his face. 

"Hello! Nice to meet you." Dan was dressed in a simple white shirt with a tiny black diamond embroidered onto his chest and blue pants. His hair had changed colour, to tufts of cotton candy blue instead of the dark blue. "You're George, right?"

"I- yeah. What are you doing here, Your Majesty?" George stuttered. 

"Hm? Oh, I'm not the real Dan. I'm just a projection of your mind. I could change if you wanted me to." He snapped his fingers and his image blurred and was replaced with Dream. 

"Is this better?" Dream's poncho billowed out from his body in gentle curves and waves, reminding George of the small hillocks by his home. His feet were levitating off the floor by several inches, and the poncho stretched all the way to his feet, hiding his shoes. 

"What am I doing here?" George asked the Dream lookalike. There was a witch hut in the river, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. 

"The calm before a storm." Dream stared out at the desert, the searing wind burning George's face. "You know what comes next, don't you?"

A chill ran down George's spine. "I don't-"

The idyllic scene around him dissolved, and George felt fear grip him. It was completely dark, but he could hear screams and the crackle of flames. The darkness around him was tinged red, and George could feel his eyes dilating. 

"George~" 

George shivered. That one word held so much malicious intent it felt suffocating. He looked around frantically, choosing a random direction to run in. 

"Don't run, George~" The voice called out again, ending with a cackle this time. A landscape swirled into being around him. The village was nothing but burnt shells of houses, the faint figures of pillagers in the background. George's breathing became erratic, and his head snapped around frantically. He felt trapped. Hunted. The red fog cleared for a second, and he spotted a lone figure perched on the top of the husk of a house.

The door slammed open, and a villager dashed out, a bundle of cloth pressed to her bosom. She spotted George and ran towards him, her hair streaming in the wind like tattered pennants. The figure dropped down, and a massive axe flashed into view. The blue blade scythed down onto her back, and she tumbled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Dream walked towards him, flicking blood off the blade of his axe. 

"George~" Dream called out. George backed away, his eyes glued onto the corpse. "Come here~"

"No. No no no no no no no no-" George sank to his knees. His hands fluttered over the dead villager's hair, pushing back her choppy fringe. This couldn't be happening again. He stared vacantly at the burning village. Dream caught up to George, but he couldn't care less.

Gently, he pressed his axe to George's neck, drawing a red smile across his neck. George watched the blood spray from his neck in a pressurised jet. He was going to die, he realised.

"Goodbye George. Sleep tight," Dream whispered, crouching down. The last thing George saw was that white smiley face, splattered by his own blood. 

* * *

George leapt out of his covers, his hand flying to his neck. He found only sweaty skin. He gasped, hiccuping silently. That had felt so real, so terrifying. He looked around his room. Every dark corner seemed threatening now, and everywhere George looked, he got the feeling that someone- or something -was out to get him. He tried to go back to sleep, but the screams kept playing on repeat, and George threw off his covers and slipped out of his room, meandering down the hallways.

The corridors were unlit at night, allowing the moonlight to bathe everything in silver. He looked out of one of the many windows. A full moon. A breeze ghosted past George's neck, and he turned around. Someone had opened one of the windows, and George moved towards it.

Dream was sitting dangerously close to the edge of the roof, swinging his legs childishly. George walked closer, careful not to startle him. He sat down away from the edge and drew his legs up to his chest. 

They sat like this for a while, staring at the sky, where the moon hung like a luminous pearl suspended in a sea of ink, and a nebula of purples and blues stretching across the heavens. 

"Can't sleep?"

George debated whether he should tell the truth or play it off. "No, I just wanted a walk."

"You had a nightmare," Dream said softly. "It's okay."

"H-how did you know?" George received a non-committal shrug in response and sighed, resting his head on his folded arms. "Yeah, I did."

"Do you....do you want to talk about it?" George almost smiled. The coyness and uncertainty in Dream's voice was refreshing. Usually, he would be so full of himself.

"There are a lot of stars out tonight," George said. No, he wasn't ready to talk about it yet. He hoped Dream wouldn't press him.

"That's because it's dark out here. Back at the city, there's too many lights, so you can't see it." Dream pointed at a cluster of stars. "Look, George. It's Orion, the hunter."

"I only see a cluster of stars."

"George!" They shared a quiet chuckle and turned back to the sky. 

"There's Leo, the lion." Dream pointed out another cluster of stars. 

"Dream, you're joking. I can't see anything."

"I'm not!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Dream fell silent at this challenge, turning to stare back at the night sky. Slowly, he stretched out his hand and traced out a pattern with his magic, the yellow threads hanging in the air. 

"Leo," he said pointedly. He continued tracing the stars, looping golden thread around distant diamonds. George inched closer, staring at the dome around Dream. He traced a spoon shape in the sky and stepped back from the star chart he had literally created with his bare hands. 

"It's beautiful," George breathed, reaching out to touch the threads. They spun away from his grasp, reforming into the constellations.

"You wanted me to prove I could see constellations and you couldn't. So? Did I win?" Dream dispelled the threads with a flick of his hand.

"Yeah, yeah," George allowed. "You win this round." He yawned, his body suddenly overcome with bone deep fatigue.

"Go to sleep, George. We've got a long day in front of us tomorrow." Dream shepherded George towards the open window and stepped through it himself, closing it with a quiet click. "George. Where's your room?" Dream whispered, his hands pressed against his back. 

"Mmm. Somewhere down that corridor." George gestured vaguely, and he heard a huff from Dream. They moved down the corridors, and George barely noticed when he was dropped onto a bed and the covers arranged over him haphazardly, sinking into the warm embrace of sleep.

* * *

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" The curtains were yanked open, and the morning sunlight stabbed George in the eyes. He groaned and rolled over, knuckling his eyes. His hands knocked against his goggles, and he removed them and tossed them away. 

"Five more minutes," he grumbled. Footsteps faded away, and suddenly, the most delicious aroma snaked its way into his sleepy mind. He rolled out of bed and let his nose lead him to the source of the smell. 

"Hey George! You're up," Antfrost smiled, carrying a plate of fried fish and eggs to a large dining table. 

"Yeah. I smelt something." George rubbed his eyes, stretching out his joints and yawning. He looked around and frowned. "Where's Dream?"

"He's still sleeping." Antfrost lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He's dead to the world. I swear, if someone walked in and tried to kill the Ace of Spades, he would not budge."

"I'll go and see what I can do." George piled a plate of food full of food and brought it up carefully, fanning the smells out in front of him. "Dream~ I got food~" he called out, looking around. He found a door ajar and pushed it open. His foot kicked something, and he picked it up. His glasses. He pocketed it and walked towards the bed. 

"Dream?" He called out, putting the plate of food on one of the bedside tables. He could see a mound of blankets and he slowly unwrapped the blanket burrito, folding the blankets neatly on the side of the bed. 

"George?" Dream's voice was thick with sleep, and he pulled another blanket over himself and rolled over, his back facing George. "What's going on?"

"You've overslept. I brought you breakfast." George spotted Dream's mask on a pillow and picked it up, dropping it into his outstretched hand. 

"S'alright. I already brought myself breakfast." One of his hands wafted towards the other bedside table, where a cold plate of food sat. "I just fell asleep. The bed was too warm." Dream looked up, the mask secured tightly onto his face.

"Wasn't I just on this bed?" George asked, slightly bemused by the timeline. Dream stood up and got his plate of breakfast, balancing it on his knee and digging in with a fork. 

"Yeah. I was the one who tried to wake you up. I left the door open and came back in to sit on the bed, but I probably dozed off." Upon catching the look on George's face, he paused his chewing. "Don't worry, I took the couch. Can't sleep in the same bed as you anyway; you spread out so much."

"Wait, this is your room?"

"I didn't know where yours was, and you were a vegetable last night."

Relief flooded George, though there was a hint of guilt mixed in. Because of him, Dream had to camp out on the chair. He could already imagine him, curled up on the chair, his bright yellow poncho draped over him and his mask off somewhere. He swallowed, the taste of eggs and guilt thick in his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

Dream looked up. "For what? I've slept in worse conditions. A couch is like heaven to me at this point. Plus," he looked back at his empty plate, scraping off the grease with the tines of his fork. "I don't sleep much. Not anymore."

"What-"

"Hey. Ant told me to tell you guys we're going to the city today. Do you want to tag along to, I don't know, do some recon or whatever it is you do?" Stampy stuck his head into the room. Dream crossed his fork across his plate and stood up. 

"We'll go. I need intel for this."

* * *

"Do we have to put on the cat ears?" George whined, holding the cloak at arm's length. 

"It's either that or get mugged the moment you step foot into the city, Georgie." Dream tugged on the hood of his poncho and arranged his hood, making sure the triangular bulges of fabric looked like ears. He drew a figure eight in the air and muttered something under his breath, pulling off his hood with an excessive flourish. 

"Dream?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your ears?"

Dream touched the now very real cat ears on his head. They were a sandy brown, just like his hair. "Well, we can't have our hood on forever, you know."

George looked at the hood, and he gingerly reached into the sewn pockets, but Dream slapped his hands away. 

"Don't touch," he warned. "You wouldn't want to do anything that would cause your ears to attach to your hands, would you?"

"Wh-then help me! I have no idea how to even put them on!" George tossed them onto the bed, huffing and crossing his arms. Dream picked it up and pulled it onto George, arranging the hood carefully. 

"Signum," he muttered, holding onto the bumps. George felt a prickling sensation on his head, which then moved down to his ears. They grew uncomfortably warm and cooled again. Dream pushed down the cowl, but he kept the piece of clothing on. "Alright, we've wasted enough time. Let's go."

* * *

The city of Reginales was beautiful. The entire city was a melting pot of cultural clashes, with multicoloured mosaics of cloth and stone forming a patchwork of a city. A blocky white building rose up in the distance, towering over the other tiny houses. People walked in the markets, perusing the goods while children poked at the chickens. Rolling plains had fields of golden wheat growing from them, picturesque looking farmhouses dotted the horizons. 

"George! Stop dilly-dallying!" George tore his eyes away from the mural and stepped into the city walls. The inside was nothing like the mural he had just saw. The houses were streaked with dirt and grime, and the sparkling windows were shattered or boarded up. The only thing that remained unstained was the blocky building. Against all the grime and destruction, the building looked blindingly white.

"That's new," Antfrost frowned. "The government building wasn't like this when we left."

"When did you guys leave?" George looked around at the houses, at the frightened faces peeking out at them. 

"A month ago. We were originally a cargo carrier, but we defected when we heard that the government collapsed. Then about ten days ago, Stampy came up with the idea to get into contact with Spades. We mooched around off the coast of Diamonds for a bit, to let Stampy catch up with his friend." Antfrost paused for breath, and George realised they were standing in front of the building. Up close, the building looked like it was scrubbed clean recently, and there was a faint scent of lavender coming from the stone. 

"We're here. Okay, here's the plan." Antfrost pulled them into a narrow alleyway. "Me and the boys will run interference, and you and Dream will...do whatever you need to, okay?" 

"How long can you give us?" Dream said. 

"It all depends." 

Stampy looked up and his pupils dilated into tiny slits. "Uh, guys...."

George turned around, looking out of the alleyway. A carriage rolled past, surrounded by a plethora of guards. The people had started gathering around the sides of the streets, and they were waving and clapping. "What's going on, Ant?" 

"I don't know," Antfrost answered disbelievingly. He pushed his way towards a cat with snow white fur and laid his hand on their shoulder. "Velvet, What's going on?" The cat jumped and turned around with wide eyes.

"Ant! I was so worried! You disappeared for like, a month, and I didn't even hear from you!" Velvet cried. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but postal service wasn't exactly a choice since I converted to piracy."

"You went from a cargo carrier....to a pirate ship!?"

"Yeah, it's kind of a long story. Mind catching me up to date? Who's the one in the carriage?"

"That's Schlatt. He washed up on shore, and he somehow managed to make peace with the gangs around town. A lot of the people now really like him. The city might be up and running in a few months time, and then we can start trade routes again."

Just then, the doors of the carriage opened, and Schlatt stepped out. He was wearing black, billowing robes that fell to his ankles, and he had glossy black horns erupting from the sides of his head, curling around his elongated ears and the tips turning out at his chin. He walked up the steps to an elevated podium and waved to the surrounding cats, smiling serenely

. 

The rest of the crew of the Merry Men stood up, watching this strange new development unfold. George could feel his faux cat ears fold flat against his head in response to his growing apprehension. Only Dream didn't seem to be bothered, looking up at the building. 

"Citizens of Reginales!" Schlatt boomed, his voice enhanced by the same spell bards would cast to carry their voices far and wide. "I stand before you as your humble servant. We have entered a new era! A golden era."

"What's he doing?" Antfrost muttered. "This isn't right. This wasn't part of the plan."

"What plan?"

Antfrost shushed George. Schlatt kept on talking.

"We're going open up trade routes next week! Finally, we can integrate back into the Kingdoms, and establish our might as a trading port!" Schlatt smiled at the audience, and George realised he had yellow eyes with squarish pupils, visible even from a distance. "But how? You ask. Well, I propose a solution."

"Let's go." George turned to look at Antfrost, and he looked frightening. His fangs were bared, and his face was twisted into a fearsome mask.

"Alright. I've gotten all the information I need." Dream stood up. His voice betrayed no emotion, but his ears lowered in a sign of aggression. "I have a plan, but it will need time to implement."

"O-okay. Okay. We'll go back to the safehouse." Antfrost nodded and waved for his men to follow him. They headed out of the city again, Schlatt's voice booming in their ears. Dream strode past George and started talking to Antfrost, conversing in harried whispers.

"Same here." George jerked out of his trance and looked at Stampy. He was staring distastefully at Antfrost and Dream. 

"Sorry, what?"

"You hate it, don't you? When your Ace squirrels away secrets and insists that you're not ready." Stampy looked at the birch trees surrounding them, their trunks a light, creamy white.

"I don't, I never, I- yes," George admitted. "But I don't blame him!" Upon seeing Stampy's skeptical look, he nodded vigorously. "It's true! I know it's for my own good. That's probably why he's hiding them."

Stampy clicked his tongue, "Touché."

George was still trying to puzzle out the meaning of the word when they stepped past the threshold of the safehouse. He turned around, wanting to voice out some concerns with Dream and realised he was gone. 

"Ant? Where's Dream?" The captain turned around, unbuckling his sword. 

"He disappeared just now, saying that he has a plan."

"What? I have to talk to him. Let me go-"

"And he also told me that you would want to go find him." Antfrost shook his head, chuckling lightly. "His predictions are scary accurate. Maybe I'll get him to read my future."

"Let me go find him," George repeated. Antfrost sighed, his tail wrapping around his leg.

"Sorry George. He told me to tell you to stay," Antfrost said apologetically. 

George grumbled in frustration, storming off through the halls. "Stupid Dream. Why can't I go with him? Why doesn't he tell me anything?" George seethed to himself, pushing a door open and shutting himself in. He stormed to a nearby chair and threw himself onto it, folding his arms across his chest and wallowing in his misery. It was only when he looked up did he realise where he was. 

Tall, mahogany shelves rose to the ceilings, stuffed full of books, scrolls and papers. The musty smell of old books permeated the air, and George took a deep breath, and he felt his anger melt away.

It smelt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DreamSMP spoilers: 
> 
> The fact that Tommy is spawning further and further out to sea worries me. There was a theory that he was sleepwalking, trying to get home and I find that heEARTBREAKING


	11. Achievement unlocked: I've got a bad feeling about this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things are picking up slowly now! Also, there's a part where George is in a state of...I can't spoil it, but think of it as homesickness, but stronger.

George chewed on the ratty quill thoughtfully, staring down at his paper. The ink was blotchy and smudged, but the letters were still legible.

He had been practicing his handwriting by copying out large portions of texts from books which he found particularly interesting, and he had amassed a thick sheaf of copied pages. However, his handwriting left something to be desired.

He sighed and pulled out another book, comparing his handwriting to the book's. It still couldn't hold a candle to it. He picked up the quill again and poised it above a fresh sheet of paper, scanning the page of the book. It was detailing the unique position and magic that the Aces of the four Kingdoms held, and George's eyes had fallen on a particular paragraph. He started writing, but his hand would touch the fresh ink and smudge it, being a lefty. He dropped the quill in defeat and glared at his black striped hands. Clucking in disgust and blowing out the lamp, he left the library to wash his filthy hands. 

"George!" 

George's head turned towards the sound of the voice, hardly believing his ears. Dream was standing there in all of his bright yellow glory, waving cheerfully. Before he knew it, George's feet were guiding him towards Dream. He crashed into Dream, wrapping his arms around the taller male, who staggered but took the assault. "Dream!"

"Aww, did Georgie miss me?" Dream said, his voice sickly sweet. But George could tell there was genuine happiness hidden behind the snark. They stood like this for a while, hugging each other in the middle of the hallway before one of them decided to break the silence. 

"Dream?" George looked up at that white mask. 

"Hm?"

"My hands were covered in ink." George let go and jumped back, watching Dream shriek and pull off his poncho. The back of the garment was now streaked in black, with two vague blobs in the shape of George's handprints. 

"George!" George didn't know if it was the exasperated tone of Dream's voice, or the way he tilted his head and looked at the poncho, but something about the whole situation cracked him up. After a moment, Dream joined in with that infectious wheeze of his until they were both doubled over, holding their sides.

"Dream! You're back. Just in time, I've gotten the supplies you said you needed from Illumina." Antfrost smiled warmly and came over to stand by Dream. 

George's laughter died in his throat. "You- you've gotten in touch with Illumina?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"How long was Dream gone?" George had immersed himself in the library, barely leaving to eat and falling asleep where he was reading. 

"About a week."

"A week?" George choked out. He had been holed up in the library for a week, trying and failing to distract himself from thinking about Dream's expeditiions.

Dream paid him no heed and headed into the meeting room, where a giant map was stretched out on the table. Dream unslung a bag from his side and dropped it onto the table, waiting for the rest of the Merry Men to file in and take their seats. George slipped in and stood beside Antfrost, looking down at the map and studying the extraordinary detail on its surface.

"My friends, your country is in the grip of an evil dictator. My sources have told me that he is using all means necessary to get his goals, including unpaid labour and overworking your fellow citizens!" The cats in the room booed and hissed, baring their teeth and unsheathing their claws.

"We don't want that anymore, do we?" There were yowls of agreement, and George glanced at Antfrost. The captain's face was stony, but the tip of his tail was peeking up, a positive sign. 

"So, behold! My master plan!" Dream pulled out a piece of grey silk and laid it on the table with a flourish. George took one look at the banner and smelt smoke, bitter and burning. Dream had brought back a pillager banner. He heard Dream say something, but it all faded to background noise crackling and buzzing underwater. Someone-or something-touched him, and he batted them away. 

"Stay away!" He yelled, his eyes shooting around him. The door was wide open, and he ran for it, slamming it shut behind him to slow his attackers down. He made for the only room where he was sure he'd be safe.

George pulled the heavy bedside tables over to the door, barring it shut. He could hear the nasally cackles of the pillagers now. They were closing in. He looked around his room. Too many holes, not enough people to guard them. He wormed under the covers of the bed, his breathing loud in the enclosed area.

"George! Open the door!" Someone was pounding against the door, but the tables held firm. 

"Go away!" He heard himself shriek. "I don't have the flag!" The pounding ceased for a hopeful moment before renewing in vigour. He clapped his hands over his ears, curling into himself. Another sound made itself clear through the chaos echoing in his ears. The frantic ringing of a bell and a woman, screaming.

* * *

"Give me my axe!" Dream knew he probably looked crazed right now, but he didn't care. He chided himself angrily. Stupid, so stupid. Of course George would have issues with the plan. He wasn't a battle hardened veteran, for god's sake! Why didn't he see it sooner? 

_Because you don't care. You don't feel the same, so you don't care._ His mind whispered. _You're out of the loop, Dream._

"Give me my axe," Dream repeated, his voice injected with steely calm. Just then, an earsplitting shriek ripped through the air, sending chills down his back. He rammed his shoulder against the door, cursing the builders out for doing such a good job on the doors. Someone nudged him and slid something into his hand. He didn't look at what it was, he simply swung it at the door. The door buckled under the vicious attacks from Dream, and finally gave way.

The screams pounded against Dream's skull, and it was more terrifying than anything he had ever heard. It sounded like someone was having their lungs torn out slowly. He dropped the sword and leapt over the barrier of wooden tables.

"George?" Dream yelled. The screams stopped, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. He moved closer towards the shivering bundle in the blankets, reaching out a hand to pat him. The blankets were flung at him, and someone bowled him to the floor. 

"Leave me alone pillager!" George's eyes were blank white, but Dream could tell when he could see and when he couldn't. And right now, he wasn't in the right state of mind. George brought his fist down onto Dream's face, but he shoved George off. 

"George! What are you doing?" Dream moved backwards. George jumped at him, pushing him into the mirror. The glass burst into tiny shards, tinkling musically onto the stone floor. 

George's head swiveled side to side, and he groaned quietly. His next words were cryptic, and unlike what George would say.

"The apothecary is burnt down. How will we get the pots done in time?"

Dream furrowed his brows under his mask. This wasn't like how soldiers had reacted when they had traumatic dreams. The village that got raided wasn't big enough to have an apothecary. What was George talking about? Pots was a cleric slang for potions. In all of Dream's memory, he had never heard George react to that word before. So why now? And how?

"Dream, have you calmed George down?" Antfrost poked his head in and his jaw dropped at the chaos. Dream motioned for him to leave and he quickly withdrew his head. 

"Gogy? Georgie?" When he received no response, he tried again. "George?" That got something. George's head shot up, and a small smile spread across his face. 

"Dad?" 

Dream tilted his head, confused at George's reaction. It seemed like he was stuck in the past. Whenever Dream asked about George's past, he would clam up immediately. From what he could gather from George's one word replies when he did reply, his family was estranged. George's reactions made no sense at all. 

He was stuck in the past. Maybe something from the present would pull him back. Dream scanned the room, considering and discarding objects. George couldn't seem to see anything, judging from how he reacted. However, there was one thing he could try. 

Dream exhaled, calling on his magic. The sleeping knot unraveled and hummed through his veins, thrumming with power. He formed thick strings with them, knotting them together into one rope and sending it weaving towards George's hand. George jumped and looked down at the rope. He reached out for it and touched it. The bracelet on George glowed brighter, and some of the fog seem to clear from his eyes. 

"Dream? What's his magic doing here?" George mumbled, stroking the rope. "I'm back at home...aren't I?" He blinked again, and he looked around in surprise. "Dream?" 

"Hey George." Dream exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. He drew the magic back into him and sat down opposite George, who seemed flummoxed by the turn of events. "How are you?"

"I was-I'm fine. I was just at my village, then I saw your magic and then-and then..." George's face crumpled, and he dropped his face into his hands. "I wasn't there, was I?"

Dream shook his head. "No, you weren't." He scooted closer and raised his hand to pat George on his back. He paused before his fingers could reach and awkwardly pulled away. Man, he was bad at this. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dream was at a loss for what to do. He'd heard Bad ask this to people before, when the new knights-in-training were homesick. But what was the meaning in this gesture was beyond Dream. He wondered if there was a way to get better at this comforting thing, since George seemed to break down easily. Speaking of which, he should probably get George to a doctor soon. Maybe some sleep medicine would help, seeing as he had nightmares recently. 

"-ream? Dream? You're not even listening to me!"

"I am, I am!" Dream's reply was automatic, and by the look on George's face, he seemed to know it. He sighed before repeating what he was saying. 

"I was saying that I don't remember anything from my childhood. So even if I wanted to 'talk about it', as you suggested, I can't." 

That piqued Dream's interest. "You don't remember anything?"

George shook his head slightly, twisting his hands together. "No. It's not like, amnesia or anything. My mind is blank up until I was living in the village with Skeppy." 

"Have you considered magic? You might've been spelled." George hummed, turning the thought over in his head. 

"I don't know. Maybe? Wouldn't I remember it?"

"George. The first thing we're going to do when we get back is to get you to Sapnap. He'll know what to do." The tone of Dream's voice made George look up in surprise. 

"Oh. I didn't know you cared, Dream."

"Well, we can't have our king being plagued by nightmares now, can we?" He stood up and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw George's face fall, but it was gone in an instant. He dismissed it as a trick of the eye. "Come on, we have to go back to the meeting. Ant and the rest are waiting."

"You know, I think I'll pass. I'm a little tired." 

Dream glanced back at George in surprise. He had his goggles back on, and he was twisting his ink covered hands together. 

"Oh! Of course, of course. Yeah, you can pass. It must have been hard, sorry. I'll explain it to them," Dream said. George nodded, his expression morphing into one of relief. 

"Yeah, I'll see you around, Dream."

* * *

George watched Dream disappear into the meeting room again and turned in the opposite direction.

The familiar doors of the library greeted him, and he sighed. For a moment, Dream had seemed human. It wasn't like he was completely alien, but Dream seemed...distant at the best of times. He would space out in the middle of explaining something to George, or he would crack jokes in a serious situation. (Those were minor things, but still. It irked George.)

He took a seat and picked up his quill again, opening the book where his notes were sandwiched. The papers were just like he had left them, but for one thing. A scrap of paper with a note written on it in loopy cursive: _I'm sorry, Sally._

George picked it up and frowned. Was this someone's apology? He slid the note back in and laboriously copied out another lengthy paragraph, cursing the flowery language the writers used. However tedious the job, George found the knowledge fascinating. 

' _It is said that an Ace exists solely to serve. If they do not serve, their life becomes meaningless, and they cease to exist._ ' read one book. 

' _Aces are destructive forces of nature. Do not engage at all costs. If you somehow find yourself the object of an Ace's focus, say your prayers. No force on earth can stop them now._ ' This one confused George. In the book, the Aces were described as power-hungry, shallow beings, controlled only by their bonds to the kingdom. They answered to no one but the King, the Queen and the Jack, and they were ruthless.

George thought of the time when Dream fell for the classic bucket-balanced-on-door trap, courtesy of Sapnap. The pair had been at it the whole day, sniping not-so-subtly at each other. Yeah, no. If George had to describe Dream, a power-hungry, ruthless beast were not in the top ten words he would use to describe. 

"George?" An unfamiliar cat pushed open the door to the library. His fur was a snowy white, and it seemed like it was curled. "Antfrost asked you to come to the meeting room."

He stood up, wiping off his hands with a damp cloth he had swiped from the kitchen. "Alright." They walked in silence until they reached the dreaded doors. The white cat gave George a reassuring smile and disappeared down the hallway. George took a deep breath. He realised his hands were shaking, and he pressed them against the door. 

"Ah, George! Hi!" Dream stood up and waved him over. "Just in time."

George made his way over and tried to look at anything but the steel grey banner lying on the table, taunting him. "Hey guys."

"So, how do you feel about becoming a revolutionary?" Antfrost slung an arm around George and smiled knowingly.

George looked around at the people surrounding him. "You're joking." 

"We're serious as a heart attack. Here's the plan." Dream pointed to the city of Reginales.

Antfrost would take a small group of men and cause a distraction, preferably one involving loud sounds and commotion. They would use the flag. Hopefully, Schlatt would come out to investigate or send some of his men out. 

Dream would take this chance to sneak in, with a map helpfully provided by one of the castle staff. This was where George came in. He would act as the-

"I act as the what?" George could hardly believe his ears. 

"The decoy, George. You're going to be my getaway distraction, and I'll come grab you when I'm safe, yeah?" Dream folded the banner and passed it to Antfrost. 

"I-" 

* * *

George felt a sense of déjà vu as he crouched in the alleyway. The white building was silent, but there were guards stationed by the doors. Antfrost and the rest were already gone with the flag, and only Dream and George were left. There was a kind of quiet apprehension in the air, and when the mournful note of the raid started, George's skin crawled with invisible beetles. 

Dream was already up, running towards the distracted guards. He took them out with two clean slits to the throat and gestured George over. George dragged his feet over, watching as Dream sliced through the lock and kicked the door open.

The foyer was empty, and Dream made quick work of the lone guards here and there, making their way to Schlatt's office, where George rattled the door of the office. 

"Locked," George muttered in mock frustration. "Guess we'll have to go back, huh?"

Dream looked around, testing other doors. He looked into an unlocked room and peeked back out into the hallway. 

"Follow me." He led George into a different room, where a window looked over the city. In the distance, there was a thin plume of smoke rising up from the horizon. 

The shattering of glass alerted George to Dream's antics, and he turned around to see the Ace, foot through a broken window.

"Dream! What are you doing?" George hissed, walking forward and extracting his boot from the broken glass. 

"I'm getting into Schlatt's office, George! Go to the door, I'll unlock it for you." Dream shooed George out of the room and climbed out of the broken window. George stomped to the door and waited impatiently, tapping his foot. Suddenly, he heard whistling echoing down the hallways, and he looked around in panic.

There was a pedestal, with a fancy looking vase perched on it. That vase probably had an illustrious history behind it, but now, George was hiding behind it.

George watched as the guard inspected the vase for a few moments before shrugging and stalking off again. He heaved a sigh of relief and ran to the open door, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Dream was already all over the documents, scanning them quickly and placing them back how he found it. 

"George, come on! Stop daydreaming and help me!" 

"Okay, okay! What do I look for?" George flipped a few pages around, only to have his hand batted away by Dream. 

"Files, papers, that sort of thing. I'll check if he had a safe or something." George flipped through the papers, his mind somewhere else. Some time later, he heard Dream give a small cry of exclamation and jerked out of his own thoughts. 

"Aha, you beauty," Dream murmured, running his hands over the safe, which was made out of a glossy dark blue, almost black material, with a singular grey eye in the centre. The eye was still, but George couldn't help feeling weirded out. 

"How do we open it?" Dream looked up, tilting his head to the side. 

"Silly George. You can't open an ender chest; they have powerful magic of their own right." Dream tapped the chest, turning it round and round. 

"Well, how do we get the things out then?" Dream cackled and unsheathed a hunting knife. 

"We don't." He plunged the knife into the eye, which exploded into black jelly. The chest shimmered, and it became an ordinary chest. "Enderchests are difficult as hell to find, and even more difficult to craft. He'll have to waste valuable resources."

George looked out the massive picture window again, pushing the plush velvet chair out of the way.

"Dream?"

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't there supposed to be smoke?" Dream looked up, and at that exact moment, they heard footsteps clicking down the halls, drawing closer to Schlatt's office.

George glanced at Dream, but he was already gone, squirreled in some hiding hole. He swallowed, his throat drying out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raccooninnit kekekekeke. Also, an early Merry Christmas to all!


	12. Achievement unlocked: Lion Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO THANK YOU ALL A BUNCH FOR 2500 READS!!!! IT REALLY MEANS A LOT TO ME AAAAAAAA

George dove under the table and wedged himself as far from the chair as possible. His breathing was incredibly loud in his ears, but the footsteps were louder, ringing out like a death toll.

"Stupid lock. It's broken again, I'll have to get someone to look into it." He heard Schlatt mutter, pushing open the door.

Schlatt collapsed into his chair, sighing heavily. He brought with him the smell of alcohol and woodsmoke, tickling George's nose and threatening a sneeze. George clapped his shaking hand over his face to try and quiet his erratic breathing.

Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me, don't see me- He chanted to himself. Schlatt grumbled incoherently and reached down under the desk, his hand reaching out for one of the many bottles of hard whiskey. His hand brushed against George, and he froze. For a long time, George and Schlatt did not move. Suddenly, Schlatt whipped his head down, and George- George saw it coming. 

His mind felt like it was pounding itself against his skull, demanding to be let out, and George swore that his vision was tinged with blue.

"Screw the pirates who tried to fuck my plan over. Whatever. I'll just get Vurb or someone or something to deal with the raid. He should have, his promotion is on the line," Schlatt chuckled to himself, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long slug from it.

George was holding his breath. In fact, he had been holding it so long he nearly passed out. When he deemed it safe enough, he finally exhaled. Schlatt didn't seem like he was leaving anytime soon, so George would have to extricate himself from this sticky situation. He slithered out of the table, taking immense care to not bump into anything. He had a hairy moment when his hand brushed Schlatt's cassock, but he willed Schlatt to not notice and it seemed to work.

He emerged from under the table, breathing shallowly. The rustling of documents turned his head. Schlatt was opening letters, and George's curiosity won over his self-preservation instinct. He leant in, skimming the letters quickly. The more he read, the tighter his ribcage constricted his lungs. 

This was bad.

Dream needed to see this.

George stepped away from the table, thanking every deity out there for putting a thick carpet to muffle his footsteps. His cat ears twitched, and his hand shot up to them. He had forgotten he even had them. Schlatt looked up and George was struck with a thought. That bubbling feeling in his mind might not be fear, but magic. As a way of testing it out, he thought about Schlatt falling asleep, laying his head on the table, away from the documents. 

Within moments, Schlatt was sound asleep, snoring away at his desk. The alcohol had simply helped things along. He swiped every important looking document he could see, stuffing them into his satchel and willing them invisible. Dream's head popped into the room, and his mask panned the room. 

"George? George!" He hissed, looking about frantically. 

"I'm here. Dream, I'm here!" George willed one of his hands to reappear and waved frantically. Dream nearly fell out of the frame, catching himself narrowly on the sill. 

"What? George, why are you missing your entire body?" Dream poked George's arm, and it disappeared again as his magic kicked in. 

"I'm not, I'm just invisible! I think I have magic, Dream I just made Schlatt fall asleep and when he looked at me he didn't see me!" George gushed, a wide smile on his face. He couldn't believe it. He finally had magic of his own, after all these years.

The power had mellowed out, flowing along well-tread pathways in his mind. It pulsed in tandem with George's heartbeat, and George had never felt more in tune with someone or something in his life.

"You have- Schlatt- huh?" Dream was baffled, reaching out slowly and grabbing around for some portion of his body. George slipped his hand into Dream's, who jumped violently. "George? Can you turn visible again?"

"Okay, yeah." George squeezed his eyes shut and retreated into his mind. He was in awe at how his mind looked. It...It was so bright. Everything was bathed in aqua blue light, and as he watched, the light changed from blue to purple to alabaster white. 

"Uhm, Dream?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't. Become visible, I mean." George reopened his eyes just in time to see Dream defenestrating a guard.

"Dream!!"

"What? You want me to die?" Dream demanded, gesturing to the broken window. "I had to save myself!"

"That didn't warrant throwing someone out of the window."

"Whatever, George. Let's go." Dream swept all the papers he could see into his own satchel and groped around for George's hand. "George, you have to help me out here. Give me your hand."

George slid his hand into Dream's and they snuck out of Schlatt's office. Immediately, they saw a glaring problem with their arrangement. George was invisible, but Dream was not. And that meant that Dream would be in some sticky situations. 

"Hey! What are you-" The guard never got a chance to finish, since Dream punched him in the gut, then knocked him out with a well-placed kick to the head. 

"Showoff," George snorted, following Dream as he ran down the hallways.

Dream turned back and made as though he wanted to say something, but he pointed behind George and yelled out something; a warning, maybe? He turned around just in time to see something large and pink barrel into him. It tossed him into the air, and saw the wall speeding rapidly toward him and thought: I am going to hit that.

And he did. George collided against the smooth stone wall, his invisibility flickering. He heard a sickening crack and gasped, white hot pain flooding his senses and driving a wedge into his mind. He could feel his magic seeping through the cracks and grabbed desperately at them, begging the wispy blue strands to stay. 

The monster that had smashed him into a wall was a four-legged beast, with a physique like that of a boar. But that was where the similarites ended. The monster was a pink porker of an abomination, with tattered skin hanging off its torso and soulless blank white for eyes. It threw back its head and squealed, the sound ringing in George's ears.

Dream unsheathed his axe and faced off against the monster. Other squeals echoed through the stronghold, increasing the panic in George's mind.

"Dream...Dream!" He managed to croak out. This proved to be a terrible move, as the creature's head jerked in George's direction. Its nostrils flared, and it dragged air in. He scrambled into a sitting position against the wall, pressing his hands against his chest. Every breath felt like inhaling hot coals. It hurt to breathe. 

"George, shut up! I'm trying to protect you!" Dream met one of the monsters' charges head on, fracturing their tusk. It snorted and shook its head as though it was disoriented by the blow. 

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Schlatt emerged out of the darkness, chuckling at his own joke. His guards shifted quietly as they restrained the monsters, their faces betraying no emotion. His voice was still thick with sleep, and his words were slurred together. But he seemed coherently enough to wield a staff decently, and he walked towards Dream slowly. 

"Hello, Ace. Trespassing is punishable by death, you know." He smiled gently, leaning in towards Dream. George struggled to keep his magic cloaked around himself, grabbing at escaping wisps.

"I know, Schlatt."

"Where is your friend, Ace? A little birdie told me that you brought friends with you."

"What do you mean? I came alone, Schlatt. You're drunk."

"Am I? Oh boy, am I now?" Schlatt threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. When he swung his head back, a golden pendant caught George's eye.

It flashed past his vision, and he squinted to get a closer look. But it was gone again, disappearing under the folds of Schlatt's cloak. 

"Don't fuck around with me, Ace. I know you have a pet around here somewhere," Schlatt snarled, snapping his fingers. A platoon of guards marched into the room and stood at attention stiffly.

"Search the area," Schlatt barked out. "And apprehend that man." The guards moved out, sweeping the perimeter while two others stepped up to Dream and wrestled his arms behind his back. 

"Oh, I won't be so sure about your guards' loyalty, Schlatt." George could hear the smile in Dream's voice as he looked at one of the guards. As one, they drew their swords and pointed them at Schlatt. The foremost one took off their helmet, giving Schlatt a mock salute.

"Evening Schlatt," Antfrost said cheerfully. "I thought I'd pay our new leader a visit. Oh, and don't worry about Vurb; he's very safe in the cellar."

"Guards!" Schlatt roared, his eyes glowing gold. 

"It's no use, Schlatt. We've incapacitated all of the guards. There's no one on your side," Antfrost said gently. 

"Idiots. You don't know what I'm capable of." Schlatt's eyes flared bright gold, and he struck his staff against the flagstone, sending a rush of gold out. "Come," He intoned. From the darkness, figures shambled out. Guards, the creatures that ploughed George into the wall and dozens of others. They had one similarity: all their eyes were glowing gold. 

"This is my army. I will hound you to the ends of the earth-" 

George tuned out the rest of Schlatt's soliloquy. The pain seemed to be lessening now, but whenever he moved it sent white hot bolts of pain shooting through his body. 

"Come on..." He gritted his teeth and pressed his hand against his chest. If only he had a regeneration potion on him right now, or the ability to heal himself at least.

"-and I will rule the world!" Schlatt ended off his speech by laughing maniacally. "Guards, kill them."

His zombie minions shambled forward, swinging their swords. Antfrost and the rest leapt into battle, parrying and knocking out the guards. George dragged himself along the side of the wall, taking shallow breaths. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dream heading towards the wall where he had crashed, sweeping his arms out in front of him. 

"Dream! Dream! Help me!" He called out over the chaos of the battle, tossing a small pebble at Dream's head. 

"George! You didn't have to throw stones at me." Dream hurried over, pulling out a potion of regeneration. George uncorked the bottle and took a sip, exhaling as the potion worked into his bones, mending his wounds.

"Take another," Dream urged, moving the bottle closer. 

"Geez, Dream. You don't have to simp so much over me," George teased and took another sip, smacking his lips and sighing in an exaggerated manner. "Okay, I think I'm good now."

"You're sure?" Dream recorked the bottle and pocketed it. 

"Yes, I'm sure. Now help me up Dream." George made grabby arms up, grabbing at Dream's hands, who pulled him up. George stumbled, pressing a hand against his newly healed torso. He looked at the chaos happening around him, then back at Dream. 

"Let's get you out of here." Dream ushered George away, but when he took a step, he nearly collapsed. Spots swam in and out of his vision, 

"I... I don't think magic really agrees with me, Dream." Then George's legs gave out, and he collapsed.

* * *

Dream paced the length of the room, muttering to himself as Sapnap and Bad watched with varying degrees of concern. 

"Dude, you gotta chill. George'll be fine, stop worrying, you simp," Sapnap said, reading over some papers. 

Dream stopped and looked at Sapnap in disbelief. "What if he's in pain?" 

* * *

"Hello darling. Come to me," George cooed at the cat sitting on the windowsill. When George woke up, it was already sitting there. The cat was brown, with reddish and orangish undertones and it had a white patch on its chest.

The cat stared back at him, tilting its head. It stretched languidly and yawned, going back to staring at him once it was done. It finally decided to move and slid down from the windowsill, padding over to George's bed.

"Come on, come on. I won't do anything." He held out his hand, waiting with bated breath as the cat surveyed his hand. It sniffed his hand and rubbed its face against it. He ran his hand along the cat's spine, watching it arch into the touch. 

The door opened, and George looked up. "Oh, hi Skeppy."

"Hey George." He took a seat at the edge of the bed and gave him a small smile. He looked tired, with dark bags ringing his eyes and his hair ruffled like he just got out of bed. But his eyes were bright, and he looked cheerful. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, I'm okay." George waved his hands dismissively. "How have you been, Skeppy? How's life in Spades treating you?"

"Oh you know me, I've been setting up a business with Darryl, and it's-"

"Wait, who's Darryl?"

"Hm? Oh, that's Bad's real name."

"You guys are on a first name basis now?"

"I'm only supposed to call him that in private, so please don't tell him."

"In private? What, are you guys dating?"

"That's none of your business!" Skeppy spluttered, and George snickered at his bright red face. "A-anyway, what about you and the Ace, huh?" Skeppy sniped back. 

Now it was George's turn to get flustered. "Listen, we don't have anything between us," He said, maybe a little too defensively. 

"Right," Skeppy drawled, standing up and dusting off his coat. Did he get new clothes? "I'm gonna go now, I need to meet with a client, and Da-Bad doesn't like me being late." He waved George goodbye and left. He exhaled, slumping down into bed. The cat jumped up onto his bed, kneading the sheets. It meowed at him, and he sighed. 

"What do you mean, we have nothing between us?" George screamed and nearly fell out of bed. He clutched his chest and groaned. Dream was sitting on his windowsill, swinging his legs back and forth. "Well?" He prompted.

"What do you mean, well?" George recovered, reaching for the cat again, only to discover it was missing. He heard a quiet meow, and his head shot to Dream, who had the cat lounging on his lap. "Is that cat yours?"

"Yes. Her name is Patches." Dream scratched Patches under her chin, and she leant into his touch. 

"Patches, huh?" George looked at the cat. "Cute."

"Aw, thank you, George," Dream chuckled and scooped up Patches, gathering her up into his arms. He walked over and dropped her onto George's bed, settling down afterwards. "So... how are you feeling?" 

George touched his chest, remembering the feeling of magic bubbling in his mind. "I feel fine. Just a little tightness. I mean, I have magic. And that regeneration potion really helped."

"Good. good. The tightness are the stitches, by the way. The doctor said you aren't to stretch them." Dream stroked Patches absently, staring out the window. And George was trying to remember the feeling.

He shut his eyes, withdrawing into his own mind. Nothing. Nada. It was dark inside. George exhaled, disappointment stinging at his eyes. 

"George? You okay?" He opened his eyes, looking up at Dream. 

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine," George said faintly. 

Dream frowned. "This is because of your magic, isn't it?"

Damn it. Sometimes, he didn't like how Dream was so perceptive. "I-I just. It's just. You know," he finished lamely.

"It's okay, George. I know." Dream turned back to the window again.

No, he wanted to say. No, you don't. You've spent your whole life with magic, and I lost mine after using it once. You couldn't possibly know how it feels. 

"You know..." He turned to Dream, who seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. "I...don't think that you've lost your magic."

"Really," George said doubtfully.

"Really. I happen to know a master of magic." Dream scooted over, patting George's hand comfortingly. "He taught me everything I knew."

"Was he a terrible teacher or were you a terrible student?" 

"George, please."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. So, when can we go meet him?" 

"That's funny. The thing is, he's disappeared into the forests in Hearts."

"So that means...?"

"We'll have to talk to Techno, and get Wilbur and Tommy to take us there. They're the only ones who know where Phil is."

George smiled. Whatever it took. "Let's go, Dream."

* * *

Sapnap was panicking. He looked over his letters again, making sure that he hadn't read it wrongly, or some other easily explainable factor. He sank into his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes. This wasn't going well. Just then, Dream burst in.

"Sapnap! We need to get to Hearts, fast."

Sapnap stood up, his heart pounding. Could it be? He plastered on a smile. "Sure. I'll go get Bad, and we can go." This was the perfect excuse to meet up with Wilbur. Dream shouted that he was going to pack and disappeared again.

Sapnap looked over at the neatly written letters and scooped them up, dropping them into a pocket of magic, sealing them from the outside elements. He dropped the thin wafer into a travelling bag and left for the portal room. Bad was probably wrapping up that business deal with Skeppy, so it wouldn't be long until he came back. 

The portal room was dull and inactive, but a simple flint and steel solved that. The ring of obsidian lit up with a deep whooshing sound, sending veins of dark purple flowing through the cracks in the obsidian. He dropped the bag onto a table and reread the letter again. His eyes fell onto one phrase in particular. 

"Technoblade met with the orcs to discuss peace terms, and they are in the kingdom," Sapnap whispered.


	13. Advancement made: A Throwaway Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOOO HELLO Y'ALL DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS THE STORY?

"Welcome...to the Heart of the Kingdoms!" Sapnap chuckled at his own joke.

George looked at the endless expanse of water, wondering why they had brought him to an ocean. 

"Guys, I don't see anything."

"George." Dream's voice had a light laugh in it. "Look up." 

George glanced up slowly, and his jaw dropped. 

There were islands. Floating islands, overgrown with vines and waterfalls cascading off, creating rainbows where the sun touched the water droplets. The islands were linked together with bridges, and they were all hovering over a lone island, situated in the middle of the lake.

"Holy..." George breathed, craning his neck upwards. 

"Keep your head on. I've seen people fall over when they do that." Dream rapped George's head lightly, pressing his heels into the side of his horse and urging it forward. 

"It looks so cool. But...how do we get there? We'd have to row all day." George looked at the lake. There were fish and coral reefs, similar to that of the ocean ones that he had seen. 

"Simple! The Aces built a travelator to take us there! It's really cool, you'll see," Bad cheerfully supplied. 

They approached a stable built entirely out of glass, and two long tubes of glass stretched down, into the lake. The water in the tube was bubbling like it was boiling, and the bubbles seemed to be going up in one tube and down in the other tubes.

"Travel tubes? How do they work?" George stared at the tubes, poking at the glass.

"Try it out." Sapnap opened a chest and pulled out a glimmering, three-pronged weapon. He aimed the weapon into the tube and dove into the water, shooting away with a loud whoop. 

"It might be a little uncomfortable, so be careful," Bad advised, selecting one for himself as well. He stepped into the glass tube and aimed, shooting away into the depths. George turned to Dream, watching him select a weapon and heft it. 

"Sayonara!" Dream stepped into the tube and shot away as well, leaving George by himself. He opened the chest, sticking his hands into the numerous sharp, pointy weapons and pulling out one. The weapon was named "Joke", and a forage in the chest revealed tridents with the same name.

"Well, here I go," George said out loud, rolling the weapon in his palm. He felt his throat closing up and stepped into the tube. 

The bubbles surrounded him and buoyed him forwards, pushing him through the tubes at breakneck speeds. He held his breath for as long as he could, until he accidentally opened his mouth. The water gushed in, but it was cool and sweet. He gulped again, savouring the fresh water. He looked up at the fast approaching light and braced himself for the impact, expecting a violent exit. Instead, he flopped out of the water like a dying fish, gasping in shock. Someone hauled him to his feet, dusting him off roughly. 

"Alright, alright. Get up, George." Dream patted him one last time on the back. He plucked the trident from George's hands and hooked it onto a rack.

The Hearts castle was truly a sight to behold. It was completely blue, with a slight yellowish tinge to it. Thick vines hung from the roofs and the walls, and the lanterns gave off a cold blue glow. 

"Woah...Is that the castle?" George pointed toward the structure. 

"No, that's a temple." Bad tugged on George's sleeve, alerting him to a larger structure. It seemed to be carved from a yellowish material, which had different patterns engraved onto it. The flag of the Kingdom hung beside the doors: an angular heart on a dark yellow background. Sapnap knocked twice, and the doors creaked open slowly. 

"Hey, fellas. Hello, Gogy." Tommy waved at them, grinning cheerfully. He was in a red sleeved shirt and brown leather pants, and his hair had bits of straw stuck in it.

"Tommy! Hello, we've come here for...well, each for their own reasons. Can we have a council?" Bad explained.

"A council? I'll see what I can do, Technoblade's still in the meeting room with the orcs, and Wilbur's reading up on orcish customs." Tommy leant in close and beckoned them all closer. "If you ask me, they're all a bunch of wrong'uns. Techno's not doing us any favours by fucking around with them." He spun around, ignoring Bad's muttered warning and led them through the hallways. 

For George, this was his first time seeing Hearts. They seemed to place a heavy emphasis on glass mosiacs, with every window being decorated with a custom pattern. 

"First time here, Gogy?"

"First time anywhere, really," George muttered, gawping at the glass artworks. They were works of art, depicting one person in each window frame. 

"Yeah, the windows are our thing, you know! For every Ace, every Jack, every King and every Queen that passes through Hearts, they get their own personal portrait made. Pretty pog, don't you think?" 

"Pog," George agreed, tearing his eyes away from the windows with great difficulty. Tommy snuck into the meeting room for a bit, promising to be back quickly. He immediately appeared again, his face looking downcast. 

"No good. He's still in the meeting with those arseholes," Tommy grumbled. 

"Well couldn't you guide us to Phil?"

"Yeah, no. Sorry gentlemen, I have very pressing matters to get to. Henry- uh that is to say, the royal horses need to be cleaned, and the stable is short of hands. I can find you someone though. I have many connections. I'm like the mafia-"

"Alright, just get us there, Tommy."

"Sure thing, big man. I'll just go first." He rounded a corner and disappeared. Dream turned to the rest.

"Go and do what you need to do, guys. We'll meet back here in a bit, sounds good?" 

George was already headed off, looking at the sights and sounds. The ceiling was strung with hundreds upon hundreds of strings, each with multicoloured glass pieces on it. When the wind blew through the halls, a pleasant tinkling followed.

One pane caught his eye in particular. A completely yellow pane, with a figure holding the symbol of Hearts in their hands. No other portrait had that.

"Looks a little tacky, yeah?" 

George jumped violently, turning to the man beside him. He had chin-length blonde hair, and he was wearing a black cape over dark blue robes, patterned with white diamonds at the hems. The man turned to him, smiling benignly. 

"What do you think?" The man looked back at the glass. "I think it needs a little more blue. Feels a little too green to me." 

"I-" George was baffled. "Yeah, I guess." The man took something out from the folds of his cape and passed it to George. It was a mess of wooden tubes, blue and purple glass and string. 

"Hang this up." He turned and walked away. A wind swirled through the hallways, ruffling George's hair. However, the man's cloak didn't move an inch. 

"Wait! I don't even know you- what's your name?" George shouted after him, holding the bundle in his hands. He received a hearty chuckle in return, fading away with the wind. 

"George! Tommy's back!" George shoved the bundle into his pack and rushed over to Tommy, who had his arm slung around a slight male.

He had hair the colour of corn silk and sky blue eyes, and he was wearing a dark yellow shirt and blue overalls. His eyes were sleepy, and he seemed to have been woken up.

"This is my bro, my friend Tubbo! He'll be bringing you to Philza, won't you big man?" Tommy slapped Tubbo on his back, nearly sending him bowling over. Tubbo nodded, giving each of them a shy smile and receiving one in return. 

"This is great Tommy, thank you."

"No problem, BitchBoyHalo."

"Ahhh! Language!"

Tubbo giggled at that, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I need to get going. Lots of important things, lots of cows- horses, horses!" Tommy, waved them goodbye and dashed away. The moment he was gone, Tubbo seemed to open up more.

"Tommy just wants to go play with his pet cow Henry." And then: "Are you Dream?" He turned to the masked man, who shifted uncomfortably. 

"Yeah. Why?"

"Fundy talks a lot about you."

They all were taken aback at the statement. "You know Fundy?" Dream asked. 

"Yeah. Y-yeah, I do. He's my teacher." Tubbo waved at them to follow him and after Dream and George waved goodbye to Bad and Sapnap, they did. He led them on a merry hike across the islands, coming to the island with the blue temple. 

"Here's where we summon Phil. Or at least tell him we're going there." Tubbo reached up and grabbed a hidden string, pulling on it sharply once, twice, thrice. Three sharp notes rang through the temple, and George snuck a peek in.

A statue was placed inside, holding the symbol of Hearts in its hands. Hundreds upon hundreds of glass strings were draped over the statue's arms, shoulders and pedestal. The statue itself couldn't be seen, only a strange floppy hat was poking out of the top of its head. 

"George! Come on, we gotta go." Dream looked like he was encased in vines. George stepped into the cage of vines, and Tubbo pulled another rope. The whole basket shuddered and jerked, then it slid smoothly upwards. 

"Where are we going?" George asked.

"You'd know if you hadn't gone wandering, you know," Tubbo said, not unkindly. "We're going to Phil's domain. Ever since he's retired, he lives in the forested island above Hearts." The cage opened, and they were greeted with lush greenery. Tubbo led them out, through a well worn path between the trees.

George swore the trees were alive, thrumming with some sort of mystical energy. Actually, the entire forest seemed to be waiting. For what, George wasn't sure. 

"Oh no." George looked up, seeing Tubbo staring at a branch with horror. He turned to the duo, fear etched into every corner of his face. 

"We've lost the communicator," Tubbo whispered. "What- what do we do? We need it to protect ourselves-"

"Hold on, let's not get hasty. How does it look like?" Dream stepped forward, rubbing Tubbo's shoulder. 

"It looks like a windchime, with blue and purple glass, and like, metal chimes."

"Like this?" George fished the bundle out of his pack and untangled it. He held it up, and Tubbo's face paled. 

"Where did you get that?" Tubbo's voice was wavering. 

"I- a man gave it to me, why?" George handed the windchimes over to Tubbo, who inspected the glass critically. 

"George, I don't know how or where you got this, but this is the real thing," Tubbo said at last.

"Oh."

"No, not the communicator I'm talking about. This is a sacred relic that was lost to Hearts. The glass animal carvings, the protective engravings on the metal chimes. The only thing missing is the heart." He attached it to the tree, standing back.

The wind picked up steadily, and the windchime clacked and danced in the zephyrs. Wisps of blue clinging to the windchimes peeled away, coalescing in a hurricane of magic and leaves. The wind died down, revealing the strange man whom he saw previously. Except now, a stylised angular heart hung from his belt.

"Oh, it's you."

"Indeed it is. Pleasure meeting you. I am Philza, former Ace, guardian of Hearts now. Care for a cup of tea?" 

* * *

"Wait, let me get this straight, alright? You met Phil while wandering around the castle?" 

"Yeah, pretty much."

"How does that even happen, George?"

"I don't know!" George took his first good look at Phil. His cape was actually a pair of jet black wings, tipped with white. He had the same bucket hat as the statue in the temple, and this got him thinking. 

"Phil...Are Aces all guardians like you?" He asked. Phil opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by Tubbo, who doubled over like he was choking. Suddenly, he straightened and his eyes had changed colour, to a solid yellow. 

"Uh oh. Not good. Okay, out, out. Come on now." He ushered George and Dream out of the house, shutting the door in their faces. George looked at the grainy texture of the door and turned to Dream. 

"Well that was rude." Dream was still staring straight ahead. "Dream?" He waved his hand in front of his face.

"I just met Philza." Dream turned to George. "I just met Phil."

"Yeah, so?" George didn't understand the awestruck tone of Dream's voice. So he was an Ace, alright. George didn't really understand the historical value, since he was only here to learn to harness his magic. 

"So? So? George, Phil is the most accomplished Ace to ever have lived. He's got the shortest but most illustrious history in the world!" 

"Geez, I get it, you fanboy." 

Phil stepped out of the house, looking grim. He looked both of them up and down, sizing them up. "Before you ask, Tubbo is alright. He just has these episodes sometimes."

"Oh. what happened?" Dream asked, concern clear in his voice. 

"He-" Phil sighed, "-he delivered a prophecy." He pulled out a slip of paper and passed the hastily scribbled prophecy over. 

_One crow calls its comrades_   
_Sorrow is in this glade_   
_Seven crows heed its calls_   
_A hero falls_   
_Eight silent beaks_   
_Wish upon a desperate windswept peak_

George looked up at Phil, an inexplicable feeling of dread dawning on him. "Is there- is there anything else?" Dream must have noticed his expression, because he pressed a hand into the small of George's back. George shook his head slightly. Not here. He needed time. The warmth faded from his back.

"Actually yes, there was. This one was said pretty fast, so I apologise for the shitty handwriting." He passed another note over. 

_The blind King will never be found_   
_Not until the obvious finds its ground_

"What- that doesn't make any sense!" George said in disgust.

"Hold on, George. The blind King. That might be a reference to you. But I don't understand the bit about being found." Dream turned the paper around, as though there was some clue on the back.

"Should we ask Tubbo?" 

"No, best wait a bit. He's still resting. Now, what is it that you wanted? People don't usually come here without good reason." Phil fiddled with the wristband wrapped around his forearm, glancing worriedly at his house. 

"I uh- I came here to find my magic. I just recently got it, and it immediately disappeared." George felt a twinge of guilt. Was it his fault? 

"Ahh, I see. Okay, come with me. What kind of magic do you have?" George gave Dream a helpless look, and the Ace answered for him. 

"He can like, disappear. And reappear," Dream explained. "And trick people into believing he isn't there."

"Illusionary magic. I haven't seen a mage of that caliber in ages." Phil nodded in understanding. He stopped in the middle of a clearing. The branches were draped with hundreds of hundreds strings, and the glass was multicoloured. 

"What's the deal with the glass? I see them everywhere." George flicked at a glass shard, sending it spinning around. 

"It's an important part of our culture. Years ago, before the castle was even built, the land was scorched by a fire. It was so hot, it turned the sand into glass. We used the glass to make the first few shacks. 'Course, they've been torn down, but the actual glass still remains." Phil sighed and stretched his wings, shuffling his feet. 

"What are you doing?" George asked.

"Lightin' the candles. Usually, I don't do it this way. But then again-" He smiled at them. "-I don't usually get guests." His wings buffeted the ground, and he rose into the sky.

The forest danced in the cyclone, and the glass strings clinked and spun, and wisps of yellow collected in his palms. He sent them flying into the glass bottles, landing on the wicks and catching on. Slowly, Phil lowered himself to the ground, folding his wings

again. 

"How was that? Just a little party trick I can do," Phil chuckled, dusting off his hands. 

"It was awesome!" Dream gushed, and George could already picturing Dream smiling like an idiot under his mask and shook his head. 

"Right. So George, did you suffer anything when you got your magic? Headaches, cough, that sort of thing?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, don't forget the-"

"That's so out of context, Dream."

"But it's considered-"

"Alright, alright. I got headbutted by a weird, zombie, hog-like thing." George turned to Phil, who hissed in sympathy.

"You got ploughed by a zoglin? My chest already hurts just listening to that. Hm...it might be the hit that caused you to lose your magic. Sometimes, when mages suffer traumatic damage, they lose their ability to use magic. Don't worry, I'll fix it." Phil gestured for George to sit down and shooed Dream away. 

"I'll leave you to it." Dream waved and disappeared into the forest. 

"Right. So now what you wanna do is close your eyes, and imagine your magic. What colour it is, how it moves."

George closed his eyes again, met with that impenetrable darkness. He thought about that aqua colour, deepening and darkening into a rich violet.

"I see it," George whispered. 

"Good. Now, hold on to that image." Phil took a deep breath, and suddenly, his voice changed. It went deeper, hoarser, scratchier.

He recited something out loud, and the words-if you could even call them that-wormed into George's head, forming purple and white glyphs that gathered together into a fierce flame, flickering ghostly white and purple. 

"Okay, now reach towards the flame."

"What if I burn myself?"

"Ah, trust me, you won't. Now, touch the fire."

"Mmm, okay." George reached out, his hand brushing the flame. It glowed brighter and seemed to consider George's hand. "Please don't burn me," he whispered. The flame flashed blue and flowed over his hand. It didn't feel like a flame. It felt like water. The glyphs gushed through his fingers, reaching every corner of the darkness. 

"Mmm, good, good. You're doing good. Doing good." George heard Philza distantly. The water level was rising in his mind, and within moments, the water was at his neck. Some got into his mouth, and it made bright blue whorls swirl in front of his eyes. He could faintly hear Phil shouting, but blue and purple sparkles prevented him from seeing what was going on. 

He wondered what was Dream doing.


	14. Advancement made: Diamonds!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO!! Sam Nook supremacy, and also the introduction of a looming.... Hm.

"-orge! George!"

George shot up, his eyes wide. He looked around, seeing Dream, Philza and Tubbo gathered around him. 

"What's happening?" He looked down and realised that he was soaking wet.

"Well, there's good news, and there's bad news," Philza began carefully. "Which one would you like to hear first?"

"Just tell me."

"Well-" Philza sucked in a breath. "-you nearly drowned. When I helped you draw your magic out, the effort nearly put you under. That's why you're wet."

George frowned. "What's the good news?" 

"That was the good news."

"Damn." Dream whistled, dodging George's slap. 

"The bad news is that now, it's going to be more difficult than ever to draw out the magic. So you're going to be limited to simple tricks now. But don't worry- I can help you train. You just need to stay here."

George turned to Dream, tilting his head quizzically. He responded with a noncomittal shrug. 

"We'll stay."

"I'll go find Sapnap and Bad to tell them. Tubbo, do you want to come with?"

"George." Phil snapped his fingers, drawing his attention. "Shall we? We'll go over the basics first." 

"Okay," George murmured, turning his head to see Dream and Tubbo heading off together. 

* * *

"Sapnap, you need to calm down-"

"I am calm!" Sapnap's eyes flared orange for a moment, and Wilbur took a step back. The other Queen gave an exasperated sigh and continued pacing Wilbur's office. Wilbur glanced at the map spread out on his desk, with notes on orc culture. So far, they involved a lot of gold. Luckily, Diamonds didn't question the shipments. Much.

"What are we going to do, Wilbur?" Sapnap dragged a hand down his face, glaring at the map. 

"I don't know. But I don't think that letting the orcs into the kingdom was a good idea." Wilbur wove a subtle spell into his words, lacing it with calming magic. The effect was immediate. The temperature of the office dropped a few degrees, and Sapnap's magic calmed down noticeably. 

"You're right. Should we take this up with Techno? Warn him beforehand that the orcs are not what they seem they are." 

"Sapnap!" Dream slammed the door open, dragging Tubbo in with him. "We're staying here so that George can get the hang of magic okay bye-" He slammed the door shut again, leaving Sapnap and Wilbur dumbstruck.

"Well," Wilbur turned to Sapnap. "I'll open Phil's cabinet. God knows we both need a drink."

* * *

"So you take care of bees?" Dream asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence. Tubbo had brought him to a farm, saying that he needed to get some work done before he could clock out for the day. "This place looks so nice."

"Thanks, but it isn't mine. It belongs to a really nice couple." Tubbo checked on the flower fields, pointing at the glass domes in the distance. "They made climate-controlled beehouses for different species, and it looks really cool!"

"Did they build it themselves?" Dream looked at the hemispheres, admiring the workmanship. 

"Yeah! They built almost everything here themselves." Tubbo pulled a beekeeping suit out and gestured for Dream to put it on. "Pretty pog, huh?" He snapped on a pair of goggles and beamed up at Dream.

"Yeah. Pog," Dream agreed, stepping into the suit. "Hey Tubbo, don't you need a suit?"

"Hm? Oh, nah. The bees know me. And I don't ever hurt them."

Together, they stepped into the beehouse. Immediately, bees swarmed around Tubbo, crawling into his hair and over his goggles. 

The beehouse was slightly cooler than the outside, and a massive tree stretched its branches out, breaking the sunlight up nto little columns of gold.

Tubbo groped his way over to the beehouse and opened it. Thick, golden honey oozed down the honeycombs, and the bees went crazy, looping around Tubbo. A few landed on Dream, who kept very still. He didn't want to get stung to death. 

Tubbo retrieved some honey, dripping it into a bottle. He stowed the bottle away and went around the tree, retrieving a watering can. Dream watched Tubbo tread among the flowers, directing the gentle stream of water at the ones which were drooping. 

"Okay, we're done here. Let's go." Tubbo gently shook off the bees, placing them into flowers. They walked towards the door and left the house. "I have to pass this to the Supervisor, do you want to see her?" 

"What? Oh, I'll accompany you." Dream peeled off his suit, walking towards a small house, set into a rocky cliff. As he walked up the steps, he noted the patches of crops on one side and the penned in animals on the other side. And also cats. Dozens of cats lounged in the sun, and some even approached Dream and Tubbo, rubbing themselves against their legs. 

Tubbo approached a pitch black cat sitting imperiously on a bench and presented the bottle to the cat. She sniffed the bottle and walked towards a wall. The glass doors slid open, and she disappeared behind a rainbow curtain.

Dream turned to Tubbo. "The Supervisor's a cat?" He asked incredulously. 

"She's very intelligent! Besides, she's only bringing her owners out." Right on cue, the doors slid open again, and a man dressed in a paint splattered smock stepped out, cradling the Supervisor. 

"Hello, Tubbo. This is the last sample, right?" The man asked, holding out a hand for Dream to shake. "Hi! I'm Evan."

"Hi Evan. It's a pleasure to meet you and um...Supervisor." He shook Evan's hand and stepped back.

"Hello, Tubbo! Oh, is this-"

"Yep! The last sample."

"Oh, good-"

"Evan! The resin plates are done, we need the paw prints!"

"Okay, I'm coming! I just gotta finish up with Tubbo here!"

"Tell Tubbo I said hi!"

Evan turned back to Tubbo and Dream, the latter looking slightly bemused at this. "Katelyn says hi, Tubbo. Now if you don't mind me, I have to go. Give the sample to Joob, she knows where to take it." He dropped the cat down onto the floor and hurried into the house.

Dream stared at Joob, who stared back at him with her green eyes. Tubbo knelt down and held out the bottle for Joob again, who picked it up in her mouth and trotted off. 

"That's one smart cat." Dream watched her go. 

"Yeah. I couldn't believe it either when I first saw it," Tubbo said. "She's really something."

"Tubbo, my friend!!" Tommy approached them, looking very pleased with himself. "Hello, Dream."

"Hey, Tommy. What are you up to?" Dream took in his appearance: straw in his hair, muddy boots, scuffed overalls. 

"Writing to women! They love me, you know. Oh, and tending to Henry, my pet cow." 

"How's Phukkit doing, Tommy?"

"Hm? Oh, he's doing great! He really likes me, but the fucker did stab me a bunch of times when I put him in the tank."

"Tommy, pufferfish stings are poisonous."

"I know, but I got Henry's milk and drank it. I still have scars, but it just needs more milk." Dream tuned out the friendly banter between Tubbo and Tommy, choosing instead to wander his own mind.

It was interesting, what Sapnap said. He had been conversing with Wilbur, and when Dream had barged in, his posture was stiff, as though his fight or flight response had been activated. The map on the table was one of Hearts, although the markers were unfamiliar to Dream. Either they had different meanings or they were using it to mark down different foodstalls. 

"-Big D!"

Dream snapped out of his trance. "What?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "I asked you something, Big D. Have you seen Hearts at all?"

"Yes??"

"No, I mean like-" Tommy waved his hands around. "-really seen it. The drug dens, the underworld."

"How do you know about all this? Aren't you supposed to remove them?"

"Hey, we do things differently here in Hearts. Let's go." Tommy hooked an arm around Tubbo's shoulders. Dream's hand went to his back, comforted by the axe he always had on his being. 

"You're sure this is safe, right?"

"Don't you worry, big man. We're under my protection," he chortled. 

* * *

"Okay, we can go on to more complex spells now. You seem to have no problem with these," Philza mused.

"I guess. I only know how to turn myself invisible though." George said, closing his hand around the ghostly blue flame. The illusion flickered and disappeared.

"Oh, creating things is easy. You just need to create an image in your mind and hold it as you push the magic out."

"That sounds simple enough."

It was not, as George was about to find out.

"Okay, so just breathe. In, and out. In, and out," Phil called out, pouring out a steaming cup of tea for himself.

George fought back the rising frustration and took a deep breath, the heady aroma of the tea filling his mind and calming him down. He had been at this for hours now, but as he exhaled, closing his eyes, he resolved that this would be the final time.

The forest in front of him was scorched, burnt by Philza himself. The space had to be filled. 

"Focus! Focus! Don't get sucked in by the tide, go with the flow." 

George scrunched his brow in concentration, riding out the waves of magic in his mind. 

"Good, good! Now, try shaping it. Tell it what you want it to do. Magic is alive, George, and to be a good mage, you need to have a strong connection with it."

He imagined the vegetation as it was, the leaves broad and healthy, the patch of undergrowth growing back in a timelapse. He felt that familiar feeling in his mind again. It started off as a drop, before enlarging into a leak, then a roaring torrent. His breathing quickened as he felt the magic pool in his fingertips, pounding away at his willpower. He held it in, waiting for that perfect moment, when the magic would still for just a second...

There.

With a steady exhale, he let the magic out, keeping the image of lush greenery in his mind all the time. Illusion magic was extremely fickle, he had learnt. If his concentration wavered for even a second, the spell would be interrupted. 

"George?" Phil's voice was small, and there was a strange undertone to it. "Open your eyes." 

Hardly daring to breathe, he opened his eyes. The vegetation in front of him looked untouched, blooming with flowers. He reached out a hand to touch the leaves, only for it to ghost through them. A giddy laugh bubbled out from his chest. He'd done it. 

"George." He turned to face his mentor. "Your power is incredible, and I have no doubt that you will become an amazing mage, given enough tutoring." At this, his chest swelled with pride. Phil didn't give out compliments lightly. 

"However...I have to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Are you visually impaired?" 

George looked at Phil, then at the illusion he'd created. "No? I'm- but I'm colourblind."

Phil nodded. "That explains it." 

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"Illusion magic is special, George. It relies on the caster's view of the world. It bends with the caster's will. So if, for example. A blind mage were to cast an illusion, they could only cast pitch black darkness over everything."

George felt his hope shrivel and die. "So, you mean-"

"Yes." Phil fixed him with a piercing gaze. "You can't do illusions George, because your view on colour doesn't match up with the rest of the world."

George felt like a black hole had descended into his stomach and sucked out his insides. 

"Give- give me a moment please," he said faintly. He stumbled away from the illusion, around a tree and sank to his knees. A leaf fluttered down from the tree, and he picked it up and squinted at it. No matter how hard he looked, it was still yellow. He tore the leaf up slowly, dropping the pieces into the dirt. He got up and walked back slowly, wiping away the tears. 

"George! You would not believe what happened!" Dream ran towards George, "Tommy got us into a little spat, but lucky for us, Wilbur was there, and he got us out-" Dream was cut off by George wrapping his arms around him. "Hey...you good?"

"Not really." George sniffled. "I didn't have a good day."

"Tell me about it later, 'kay? We gotta go to the castle, it's getting dark, and Techno invited us to dine with him. He's got this fancy party planned for the peace treaty with the orcs." Dream patted his head gently, whispering over his head to Philza. "Okay, let's go." He guided George to the cage of vines, one arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders. 

"What happened to you guys?" George looked Dream up and down, then at Tommy and Tubbo. "You guys looked like you got mugged."

"Yeah, well. About that..." 

* * *

Technoblade pulled off his crown and dropped it onto his chair, unclipping his heavy cloak and draping it over the back of his chair. Those peace negotiations with the orcs always drained him, and this time was no different. He didn't know if it was the constant changing of languages or the way that they leered at him, but being around them always unnerved him. 

That wasn't even counting the threats. They would whisper that he was a traitor to their kind, that he wasn't a true orc, and that he didn't deserve to be the king of Hearts. He sighed heavily.

He had only gotten one good thing out of this. One of the things that Wilbur had unearthed was a spell. A spell that he, a half-blood user could use. But the specifics weren't clear, and Techno had no intention to use a risky spell. 

"So how's kingship treating you?" Techno turned around, watching Philza climb into the window. 

"I rarely get a visit from you, Ace. What's the ocassion?"

"I'm not visiting as the Ace. I'm visiting as a parent figure." He lifted the crown from the table and turned it around slowly. "Do you know," he began. "How many people I have seen with this crown on?"

"How many?" Techno knew where this was going. 

"One." He settled the crown onto Techno's head, brushing his pink hair away. "And I am incredibly lucky to be your Ace, my King."

"I'm pretty sure parental cringe wasn't supposed to be in the Ace training, but okay." Techno turned and inspected his appearance in the mirror.

Phil chuckled and pushed him in the direction of the door. "Shoo now, go to your fancy dinner party with your friends so that your father can do some work."

"Yes, parental figure." Techno paused at the door, looking back at Phil. "Phil? For you, the world." 

* * *

"What do you mean, you didn't bring any clothes?"

"Dream, I meant what I said! I don't have anything to wear!"

"Nothing?"

"Well, there were those shirts-"

"No. Absolutely not. You cannot disrespect a King by coming into a dinner party in rags!"

"Gee, thanks a lot, Dream."

Bad and Sapnap watched in amusement as Dream and George argued about what clothes he was going to wear. Bad was frowning at the prophecies, mumbling under his breath.

"They're having a lover's tiff," Sapnap whispered to Bad, who giggled quietly. 

"I heard that!"

"Sapnap, I thought you were on my side!"

"Oops." Sapnap shrugged, grinning devilishly at them. "I guess I was busted."

"Hey, what about Sapnap? He hasn't changed yet!"

"I'll have you know that I can snap my fingers and transform you into a dolphin or myself into stylish clothes."

"Do it, you wuss. I bet you wouldn't dare-"

Sapnap snapped his fingers, and George disappeared in a cloud of blue. In its place was a dolphin, chittering frantically. He snapped his fingers again, and George returned to normal. 

"That was terrible, never do that again."

"Aww, but I thought you made a cute dolphin!"

"Dream, aren't you supposed to be looking for clothes or something?"

"Yes your Majesty, King George," Dream retorted sardonically and left the room. 

"I've got it!" Bad startled everyone by shouting. "I understand the prophecy now. It's a reference to an old nursery rhyme about crows."

"Well what are you waiting for, Bad? Recite the rhyme!"

"Okay, okay!" Bad took a deep breath. "One for sorrow, two for mirth. Three for a wedding, four for a birth. Five for silver, six for gold. Seven for a secret, never to be told. Eight for a wish, nine for a kiss. Ten for a bird you should never miss. Eleven for health, twelve for wealth. Thirteen beware the devil himself."

"That's dark. Are you sure it's a nursery rhyme?" Sapnap commented.

"Okay....so we know there's one crow, that means sorrow, right?" George looked at Bad, who nodded in confirmation.

"Seven crows answer its calls, that has to mean a secret, never to be told. That doesn't mean much, there are hundreds of untold secrets," Sapnap theorised, pacing the room. 

"Right, but don't forget, who's the most secretive of us all?"

"Dream," George breathed. "You think he has a secret?"

"It's likely," Bad admitted.

"There's eight beaks too. Eight crows mean a wish."

"Or there could be nine crows, and George is going to get smooched." Sapnap smirked at George. "Who're you going to kiss, Gogy? Me?"

"I-" He was spared from further embarrassment when Dream reentered the room, holding a something behind his back. 

"George~" he sang, practically skipping to his side and thrusting a brown parcel into his hands. "Try this on for size." He opened the parcel and shook out the piece of clothing before staring at Dream in horror. 

"I'm not wearing this."

"No, you're not." George breathed a sigh of relief. "These lovely girls are going to help!" Half a dozen maids burst in, giggling and sweeping George off his feet. 

"Dream! Help!" George screamed, but they only laughed and shut the door in his face. Why did he ever become friends with them?

He was swept into a dressing room, and the parcel plucked out of his hands. A maid walked towards him, eyeing him critically. Her hair was a silvery mane flowing loose instead of tied up neatly, and she emitted an aura of power.

"Unacceptable. Girls, take him to the baths and scrub him to within an inch of his life." She waved over a few maids and whispered into their ears. "Niki, Poki, you're in charge of getting this man cleaned up adequately."

And then to George: "Don't worry. We'll get you looking presentable in no time."

He was dunked into a bath and scrubbed until it felt like his skin was peeling off. His cracked nails were smoothed and shaped, and the girls insisted on doing his nails and style his hair. 

"Nothing too over the top, please," George begged. They just winked slyly and started talking about colours. 

The clothes Dream had picked for him were themed blue, and it looked expensive. From the brief moment he had touched it, it felt incredibly soft and light to his fingertips. The shirt was an ivory white, with sleeves like the fluffy meringues he'd seen at the Sugarplum Star. The vest was a dark blue, like the corals he'd seen in the ocean, with darker blue threading through the fabric. The buttons on the vest were made of clear, sparkling gems, polished to perfection. The pants were pitch black, and hugged his figure. A cerulean blue stone was nestled in his collar, and shiny black boots completed the look.

Minx, whom he learnt was the head maid, clasped her hands together. "Oh, you look stunning," she gushed. George looked at his reflection in the mirror and barely recognised himself. His entire appearance had been altered. He no longer looked like a village boy. He looked more like a member of royalty. Someone had exchanged his goggles for a blue fox mask, covering the scars around his eyes.

"Are you sure you guys aren't magic or something?" He heard the tittering of the maids and turned around, and the maid called Niki approached him shyly. 

"Could you pass this to Wilbur, please? It's very important."

"Of course." George accepted the envelope, turning it around in his hands. (perfectly manicured as well!) He was ushered out by the maids and stood in the hallways, adjusting his collar. He could hear the distant sounds of guests arriving, and steeled himself. Okay. He can do this. He kept repeating that as he strode to the large double doors and pushed them open. 


	15. Advancement made: Cover Me With Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which George gets up to some bad joo-joo when he's drunk/drugged. 
> 
> WARNING: BLOOD, DEATH, AND DETAILED MENTIONS OF STABBING. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
> 
> If you don't want to read the blood part, stop at "George lunged at him" and start from "In all of his years". A summary will be provided at the end notes.

George's breath was stolen away. He crept into the ballroom, awed by the decorations. Techno had clearly spared no expense. The entire place was lit up with chandeliers dripping with diamonds, and the light was a warm yellow. Waiters glided around, offering guests trays. One floated past him and slipped a flute of champagne into his hand. People were staring, and George suddenly felt self conscious.

He looked around for a familiar face and spotted a tuft of blue hair. He made for it, finding the King of Diamonds conversing with a crowd of people. His clean shaven face split into a smile, and Dan pulled him close and inspected him. 

"You look great! Uhm...I forgot your name. Sorry." Dan looked embarrassed. 

"It's alright. I'm George, your Majesty. And you too." He meant it. Dan was dressed in a dark blue shirt with cuffed sleeves. His outer coat was dark blue (or purple), and his crown was encrusted with hundreds of blue jewels, twinkling and glittering in the light. His cloak was hanging off one shoulder, and it was trimmed with white fur.

"He does clean up nice." George turned and his mouth went dry. Jemma was dressed in shades of blue as well, and her hair had been unpinned to frame her face. Diamonds were braided into her hair, and a brooch in the shape of a lily pinned to her chest. Her dress was made of sheets of delicate gauze, dyed blue at the ends. A fine latticework of jewels had been masterfully sewn onto her sleeves and over her bosom, giving the appearance of scales. She looked like a fairy queen.

"Hello again, apprentice of Dream."

"Uhm. Hi." George was sure that he could construct proper sentences just a few moments ago. "I. Uhm. Go now." And he beat a hasty retreat. He leant against the table, where foods of various kinds were laden. Corn bread, flan puddings and tureens of soup were sitting on the tables. He wanted to find Dream, Sapnap, Bad, anyone.

But first.

He eyed the sticky cakes piled on a plate. They were a specialty of Hearts, and he had eaten one once. The flavour was heavenly. He picked one up and took a small bite and just about melted in pure happiness. The taste was just as he had remembered. 

"Hey George."

George spun around, a cake in one hand and a semi-flat flute of champagne in his other.

Dream was standing there. He had changed his poncho, and it wasn't so much of a piss yellow than it was a dark, bruised yellow. His hair had been combed, but the most shocking change was his mask. 

"You-your mask," George blurted out. 

Dream laughed nervously, reaching up to touch the golden swirls decorated on his mask. "Is it bad? I was thinking, because it's a special ocassion-"

"No, no. It looks good."

"And..." George snapped out of his trance. "You look good too, George."

"Thanks."

"Hey, Bad! I found the two lovebirds!"

"Woah, Sapnap!"

Sapnap struck a pose and grinned. "Hello there, Gogy." Sapnap was dressed in a dark grey robe reaching to his waist, embroidered with curlicues of gold. The entire emsemble was tied together with a delicate gold sash, with a dark yellow fire emblem hanging from a thick cord. His pants and shoes were dark grey, and his shoes had been polished to a glossy shine.

Bad appeared, looking like a harassed mother at the sweet store. "Oh my goodness! We've been looking everwhere for you, George! You look stunning." Bad's outfit was nothing to sneeze at either. The cloak looked like it was woven from shadows, and it seemed insubstantial at the ends, flaking away and reappearing. His eyes were the only light, standing out against his dark features. His entire look screamed dark sorcerer.

"Thank you Bad, you too."

"Enough talking! I want to dance before dinner-" 

A bell chimed, its high note ringing out above all the hubbub.

"-is served." Dream finished. "Okay, come on guys. We have to move." All the guests were flocking to the sides of the room, leaving the middle empty. Wilbur moved to the centre of the room and held out his hands. 

"Friends and esteemed guests. I welcome you to the party, where we will be celebrating a new era. An era of peace. Let the feast begin!" He brought his hands together and tables appeared, laden with glittering cutlery.

The guests drifted towards the table, checking the names on the back of the chairs. George found his close to the head of the table, with Dream on one side and someone called Eret on the other. Eret was dressed in a dull yellow waistcoat, with a thick cloak trailing behind him striped with yellow, blue and purple.

Dishes were whisked out, each one covered with a silver cloche. As one, the servants uncovered the food and set them down, releasing an amalgation of heavenly aromas. There was fowl basted in various sauces and racks of mutton and beef, seasoned with all kinds of exotic spices and herbs. There were fish, steamed, fried, boiled, poached and cooked in whatever way possible. Bowls of salads were laid out, beside the baked goods. Baskets of rolls, loaves of bread, cake stands filled with dozens of types of biscuits.

"Feeling a little overwhelmed?" George turned slowly, meeting Eret's glowing eyes, who nodded sympathetically. "Want me to help you?" George nodded mutely. Eret scooped out some kind of fish with golden fins and some boiled potatoes onto George's plate. George picked out a few biscuits that caught his eyes and nibbled at them.

"Don't eat too much, there's more than one course," Eret advised, and turned back to his own plate, which contained some sort of seafood soup.

It was nice, he supposed. But he didn't feel like he belonged here, in the bejeweled nest of the rich and the elite. He took a sip of champagne and cringed. The bubbles made the drink taste like angry water, and George put the drink away. 

After a light fruit pudding, the tables were magicked away, and the floors were cleared. 

"Ladies and gentlemen. Today, we have put together a special band, featuring-"

"HELLO, BOYS!" George's head snapped up to the stage, where Tommy was standing front and centre. He was waving enthusiastically and smiling toothily. George guessed that he wasn't supposed to be there, so he was surprised when Wilbur smiled and whipped off his cloak, revealing a dark brown coat over a yellow sweater. He picked up a lute and waved to the bemused crowds. 

"Please welcome, Tommy Innit and Wilbur Soot!" He ripped out a single note on his lute, Tommy yelled and rained hell onto his drums and the rest of the band followed up with a upbeat number. 

"Come on!" Dream was smiling widely, and he pulled George onto the dance floor, where a few other were already twirling around. "Let's dance, George."

"Let's see if you can keep up." George remembered a dance from his village and started on it, pulling at Dream to follow. It was a fast paced dance, with plenty of fast footwork involved. The music that usually accompanied it was a ballad, sung by one of the wandering minstrels that sometimes bedded down at the local inn. 

"Are you struggling?" George laughed breathlessly, spinning around on the spot. He could barely see the room, and he kind of liked it that way. 

"Not very. The steps are just a little finicky." Dream grabbed his arm and spun him into his chest, then twirled him outwards.

"You can say you suck, Dream. I won't judge you...much. It's not your fault you're terrible at dancing."

"Is that a challenge I hear?"

"Bring it on." George struck a ridiculous pose and smiled. 

The band mellowed out a little, but Wilbur was still on stage, as was Tommy. They seemed to be singing a duet of some sorts, and George paced his steps to the beat. He saw Sapnap flash past his vision, and then Bad dancing with someone who looked suspiciously like Skeppy (how did he get here?). George bumped Dream with his hip and cackled when he made the taller man stumble. 

"I was dizzy! The dance has a lot of spinning involved," Dream protested. He tried to bump George back, but George danced out of his reach. 

"Catch me if you can!" George had never felt better before.

* * *

Dream had seen many things in his long, long time here in the land of the living. But never had he seen someone quite like George. Countless generations of Kings, Queens and Jacks had been selected by him, but George struck him as the most unlikely option of all. Kings were supposed to lead, to be the figurehead of the kingdom. They were meant to be courageous, confident and above all, they were meant to be, well. Kingly. 

George was none of those things, yet when Dream told George that there was a vacancy for King of the kingdom, that instinct that had guided him felt like he had struck a tuning fork against it. It just felt...right. 

"Dream!" He was jerked out of his trance by the object of his musings. George waved at him, somehow on the other side of the ballroom already. He jogged slowly across, a smile forming on his face. 

"Giving up already? You're terrible at dancing!" George draped himself over Dream's shoulder.

"Then teach me!" 

To Dream's surprise, George straightened up and grabbed his hands. "Okay. So what you want to do is to lead with your dominant foot." George slid his left foot backwards, and Dream pushed his right foot forward.

"Alright, now just follow my lead." 

Dream frowned down at his feet, painstakingly copying George's moves. 

"Dream, don't look down. It'll make it harder. Look at me." Dream raised his head, staring at George. Slowly, he fell into the rhythm of the dance and began to relax. He busied himself with admiring how George pulled him along effortlessly. George's hair was slightly messy from his dancing previously, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion. 

"-are you listening, Dream?"

"What?" Dream blinked, staring down at George.

"I said I was thirsty, I'm gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Champagne?"

"Okay, get it yourself." George darted into the crowds. leaving Dream behind. He chuckled disbelievingly. George was a handful, that was for sure. 

* * *

George smiled to himself as he approached the drinks table. Dream's face when he told him to get this own drink was priceless. He looked at the choices and frowned. Wasn't there water or something? He didn't like alcohol, and there was only champagne and other unidentifiable drinks. He picked the least full glass of champagne and downed the fizzy liquid, grimacing at the burning feeling. 

He made his way back to Dream, who was still where he had left him. 

"Dream." He coughed, trying to get the taste of the alcohol out of his mouth. "Is there any water?"

"Hm? Oh, here." He lifted a goblet of cold water from a tray and passed it to George, who drank like a dying man. 

"Dream." Wilbur approached them, his hair plastered against his forehead. He was still holding his lute, and he cast a look at George. "Can we have a moment? Please?"

"George-"

"Oh, yeah, no. And, this is for you, Wilbur." George pulled out the letter and passed it to the Queen, moving away from them. His head felt fuzzy and warm. Wow, that alcohol did not agree with him. He stumbled out of the ballroom and down the hallways, feeling a little disoriented. The corridors were tilting like a ship at sea, and George felt seasick. 

_Go down the hall, to the left._

"Go down the hall, to the left. Got it," George mumbled, following the instructions. Black spots were starting to break through the stained glass windows, and he heard a high pitched giggle escape his mouth. 

"Go straight down and open the door to my right!" He pushed the door open, and he was delighted to see Philza there, sitting where the King should be sitting. The Ace looked up, surprised. 

* * *

"What-"

George lunged at him, his hands reaching for Phil's throat. He shoved himself backwards, luckily unharmed. George looked...deranged. His eyes were unfocused, and he didn't seem all there. He darted over to a fruit platter that one of the servants had brought in at some point, pulling out the knife and one of the forks. 

"Holy fuck-" George threw the fork at Phil, but at the last second, it veered off course and shattered a mirror. 

"Luck magic? My, my, that's a rarity!" George's head drooped for a millisecond before jerking back up again. "Come here, Ace! I only have five minutes left!" George's speech was slurring already, and his body motions weren't as fast. 

Philza wondered if he should just take a header off the building and fly off, but it occurred to him that George might be controlled, and to get to him, he might jump off. Another fork glanced off his hat, bouncing off the wall. He cursed and edged around the table, pouncing on George and pinning him down. 

George fought like a demon, screaming, kicking, biting, scratching. Phil grabbed onto George's hands, holding them at his side. 

"Let me go! You foolish mortal, I will rend your arms from your body!!" 

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." 

George howled and blasted Phil away with a shockwave of magic forcing him to let go. The moment he did, George pounced onto Phil and stabbed him. He howled gleefully, twisting the fruit knife deeper in.

Phil gasped, blood bubbling out from between his lips. He lashed out, his hand catching on George's cheek. His hands reached down to his torso, where his clothes around were rapidly getting soaked with blood.

Think, Phil, think.

He grabbed George and knocked him out, cradling his limp body in his hands. Good, one threat down. Now, he had to get help. Easier said then done. The door burst open a second time, and Phil's entire body tensed up. He groaned as blood trickled out from the wound. 

A man dressed in dark clothes, his hood thrown back. The moonlight turned his hair into quicksilver and flashed off the stiletto blade in his hand. 

"Oh another one? Great. Just great."

"Calm down." The word was laid so thick with magic, it sank onto Phil like a lead blanket. "I'm not going to hurt you."

George was starting to stir, and Phil glanced down worriedly. The pain was starting to make itself known, red hot tendrils of pain radiating outwards. The man was approaching him slowly, picking through the mess in the office. 

Please, he thought. Anyone. Someone. Help me.

And then he felt nothing. 

* * *

Techno kicked down the door to his office, taking in the sight. Glass was strewn across the floor, and the room was dark save for the moonlight streaming through the window. A dark mass was huddled under the broken window, and he rushed to it. 

"Someone get a light in here!" Techno roared.

Phil was sitting against the wall, his face drawn and pale. The floor around him was thick with congealed blood, and he could see two handles sticking out of his chest. Feathers from his wings had been ripped out and they lay in drying puddles all over the floor. Dried blood stained the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin, and his eyes were closed. He pressed a hand to Phil's throat, trying to find a pulse. 

"Phil? Phil, wake up." He shook the old Ace gently, wincing at the way that blood trickled out of his mouth.

Behind him, he heard Sapnap gasp and looked up. A pitch black crow was perched on the windowsill, its dark green eyes gleaming. It opened its mouth and cawed once, then flew off.

"One crow calls its comrades; sorrow is in this glade," Sapnap whispered.

Techno looks at Sapnap sharply. "What?" 

"The first line of the prophecy."

"Forget the prophecy, we have to save Phil." Techno tried to ignore how gray Phil looked, or how cold he was becoming. 

"Techno, I understand how close you were to Phil, but it's no use. Dad's dead." 

In all of his years of knowing Wilbur, he had never heard him call Phil his father. Dream stepped closer, his half mask shining in the light. He reached towards the darker bundle in Phil's lap and brought it into the light and cursed quietly. He whisked the bundle towards Sapnap, muttering frantically.

Techno only saw Phil. His surrogate father was lying dead in front of him, and he hadn't even been there to save him. He curled his hands into his father's clothes. 

"Get out," he growled. "All of you. Even you, Wilbur." 

It was only after everyone had left, closing the door behind them, that Techno allowed himself to grieve. 

* * *

George shifted, grumbling under his breath. The bed he was on felt hard, and it scratched at his back. Where was he? He opened his eyes and looked around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

He was in a jail cell, so small that he couldn't even stretch out his arms properly. Panic seized him by the shoulders and shook him, and he swallowed his laboured breathing. He thought back to the ball, but he couldn't remember anything after Dream handed him that glass of water. He sat up, but the pain in his temples encouraged him to lie back down against the wall. 

His head throbbing, he traced back his memories, desperately trying to remember. The dance off with Dream, the banquet before. The talk with Wilbur and then- George frowned. And then what?

It was like he had hit a solid wall, but he could still see through, like frosted glass. The distorted blobs of his memory was unclear, but the dried blood stains on his clothes did not give him a bright outlook on what had happened when he was drunk.

"-the fuck do you mean, you wanna take him out?"

Approaching footsteps brought voices with them, and George looked up hopefully. Dream and Tommy rounded the corner, staring down at George like he was some kind of undiscovered species in a holding cell. 

"Come on George. Let's go." 

"Wait-"

"Be quiet." Dream's voice was carefully controlled, and he turned away from George. "Tommy."

Tommy stepped forward and unlocked the door, glaring at George with open hostility as he crept out. 

"Put this on, cover the blood stains." Dream tossed his poncho at George, who draped the thick fabric over his bloodstained clothes. The silence was deafening, coming from the one who would crack jokes in the most inappropriate of situations. Dream pulled the hood over George's head and turned to Tommy. 

"Start counting." 

Tommy drew his sword. "You have five minutes, starting now."

George felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly, he was outside of the walls of Hearts, stumbling across the wet grass. Dream hauled him up and hissed at him to keep running. 

"Do not stop until we reach the pickup point," he instructed, gliding noiselessly over the tangled undergrowth. George was being pulled along by Dream, and his feet kept catching in tiny little nooks and crevices. At one point, he lost his shoe. They reached a large clearing, where a glowing circle of orange particles was glowing on the ground. 

"Sapnap!" Dream yelled, leaping into the circle and dragging George along with him. There was a flash of orange light, and then they hit the ground running, the sounds of the guards gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically, Phil is dead. Yeah.


	16. Advancement made: A Furious Cocktail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragic Backstory™ unlocked! Get ready peeps, this is a wild ride.

"What were you thinking?" Dream exploded the moment they entered the Ace Tower. "What the hell, George?"

"Dream I-"

"George. Tell me one thing. Just one thing, truthfully. Did you kill Phil?"

"I-"

George rifled through his memories, but he was pressed up against that blank wall. His silence weighed heavily on the room. This seemed to infuriate Dream more, and he slammed the desk with his hand. 

"Do you have any idea what you've done? You've ruined centuries of peace between Spades and Hearts! All of our negotiations, just-" Dream flicked his hands away from it. "-gone." He laughed, but the sound was hollow, with a tinge of hysteria. 

"Dream, I can't remember anything! How is it my fault?"

"I had to wade through a ton of red tape to get you out of jail!" Dream threw up his hands and walked away, towards the window. "I had to trade Tommy one of his discs to get him to let you out!"

"What has his discs got to do with-"

"Everything!" Dream screamed. "Those discs mean everything! They mean more to me than anything in the world!" 

"Even the Royals?" George whispered. He watched as Dream froze, the true meaning of his words sinking in. George's heart hardened, and he steeled his resolve. "Even me, Dream? Sapnap, Bad? Do you even care?"

"Not yet." Dream snapped back. "You aren't a Royal yet."

"You chose me. You told me that I had a chance to become King." George was struggling to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"Everyone in the kingdom had a chance, George. You aren't special."

The air between them was taut. They were waiting for one another. For who would deliver the blow that would shatter them into a million irrecoverable pieces.

"You don't care, do you?" George realised." You never did. Or maybe you just don't know how to." 

"I do care, George. I just-"

George intterupted him. "No. You've said enough, Dream. All of us are hurting because of you. Sapnap, Bad, they had to deal with you. I nearly lost my life several times, Dream." His voice rose, and he clenched his fists. "I've said this before. You. Don't. Care. You never have, and you never will."

Dream was tripping now, stumbling backwards over his words. "I do, I do care George. It's just, I need to have those discs. They're the only thing that Tommy cares about-"

"You said that Spades and Hearts had peace. So why?"

"No, I-"

"Just say it Dream. Say you hate us." George's voice sounded small, even to him. 

Dream was reaching towards him, his arms outstretched like he wanted a hug. He looked guilty, and satisfaction reared up inside of George, pushing away the guilt that knived at his insides. 

Good. Keep it that way. A tiny voice whispered to him. Make him guilty. Make him feel terrible. Make him know he's not human. 

"You're not human Dream." George heard himself say. "We're not the same, and we never will be."

The air was frozen. A crack of a whip, a blinding light and warm liquid was filling his mouth. George staggered back, his hand brushing against a tender patch on his cheek. He spat a bloody gob onto the floor and glared at Dream. George felt his magic boil at his fingertips, summoned by the injury. He wanted to see Dream scared. He didn't want to be weak anymore. His magic roared in agreement, and again, his vision was tinged with blue. 

He threw out his hand, sending his magic in a messy clump. It hit Dream in the stomach, making him double over. 

George gathered bundles of magic and flung it onto Dream's mask. The mask held, but not for long. A sharp crack rang out, then another, and another. The mask cracked, a single shard sliding off Dream's face. 

Dream was onto him, faster than George could blink. He threw George across the room. George slammed against the bedframe and obliterated the wood. He groaned. His old stitches from the zoglin attack might've reopened.

George coughed, dragging himself out of the wreckage.

Dream hauled him up by his shirt front, and brought George literal inches away from his face. 

"You broke my mask. You wanted to see my face. Tell me, George," he hissed. "Do I not act human enough? Did you expect a monster?"

Dream's face was still mostly hidden by the mask, but George could see some parts of his face, thanks to his cracked mask. His sandy brown hair flopped over his mask, and the crack in it had revealed an eye which was lustrous gold, speckled with clinquant pieces of brown that almost seemed to glow in the lamplight. His pupil was blown wide, and he was shaking. 

With a start, George realised that Dream was scared.

He was human.

"So, George?" Dream let him go, his voice brittle with emotion. "After all I've done for you. I saved you, offered you a place as a Royal. You still don't see me as a human."

"Dream. I'm sorry, I really am-"

"Forget it. I'm leaving."

"Where-"

"It's none of your business."

"Wait- there's something you need to know about Dan." But Dream was gone, leaving George in the ruins of the Ace Tower. 

"-and then he had the audacity to just run! Like, who does that?" George wailed, draping himself over the King's throne. He pressed the pack of ice against his swollen cheek and looked over at Sapnap. He sighed, looking up from his letters. 

"Dream does that sometimes, George. He's lived for so long, he doesn't know how to properly be human anymore. Give him time."

"Give him time? He gave me a slap!"

"True," Sapnap conceded. "But did you say something stupid? Dream doesn't hit anyone unless he has to, least of all a Royal he's chosen."

It took a few moments for Sapnap's words to sink in. 

"What?"

Sapnap chuckled. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? He brought you in out of the blue, invested emotion and energy into you, and put his life on the line for you."

"Didn't he tell you?" George sat up straighter, leaning towards Sapnap. 

"No. He doesn't tell anyone anything." Was that a hint of bitterness? "Luckily, we've gotten used to this, so we can more or less guess his tells."

George frowned, his mind still on that party in Hearts.

"Sapnap, can you bring back memories? Like, memories from about a day ago?"

Sapnap looked at George warily. "Why? Messing with brains is a delicate procedure, and things could go south like, pretty damn quick."

"Because Dream thinks I killed his idol, Phil, but I don't remember anything. And I need to set the record straight."

"The way you're acting isn't very straight of you, wanting to impress a guy and all." 

George pretended not to hear him and continued on with his spiel. "And then he stormed out on me-"

"You think just because I'm the Queen, I can just wave my hand and magically unlock your brain?"

"Can you?"

"That's not the point Gogy!" Sapnap sighed loudly, pinching his brow in exasperation. "Look, playing with memories is a thing I can do, but-" he glared at George, who closed his mouth again. "-there might be unwanted consequences. And I can't help you with that."

"I don't care! You can do that, right?" George lit up with a sudden idea. "I'll give you those letters from Schlatt."

"Schlatt? Who's that?"

"Some guy from Reginales who wanted control over the whole place. I don't know. Point is, I'm willing to trade confidential information for some magic."

Sapnap seemed to consider this, playing with the tip of his headband. "Where are these letters?"

* * *

"I don't know, Sapnap. This looks a little suspicious to me." George craned his neck, trying to see the Queen flitting around. 

"You want your memories back?" 

George nodded. 

"Then pass me those letters and zip it."

Sapnap lit the last lamp and extinguished the flame hovering above his fingertip, settling down on a chair beside George, who was currently sprawled over the bed. 

"Okay, close your eyes and take off your shoes."

"Shoes?"

"Yeah, you think I'd let you track mud over my bed?" Sapnap took a deep breath, and when he next spoke, his voice was modulated, gently flowing over him in warm waves.

"Breathe in and out. Slowly." George got himself comfortable and closed his eyes, dragging in long, shallow breaths. His racing heartbeat slowed down, and his eyelids fluttered. 

"Good, good. Now imagine a flight of steps going down and with each step, you sink deeper and deeper, into relaxation," Sapnap's voiced echoed through George's mind, and he floated dreamily down the staircase. The darkness got more complete, if that was even possible. Under Sapnap's whispered instructions, he found a door outlined in silver, and when he walked through it, he would finally get all the answers he had been looking for. 

George stepped through the door and blinked. The translucent wall was right there, along with colourful blobs moving around behind it.

"I see it." George's breathing quickened. "I see the wall." 

"Okay. Describe it to me."

"It feels cold. Not ice cold, but like, glassy cold." George ran his hand across the smooth surface. "It's like smoky glass."

"George, break the wall. You can do it."

"But- but-"

"Listen to me George. No one can stop you inside your own mind. This is your own domain." 

George's hand flared turquoise, strands of it trailing out to the wall and sinking into it.

_George..._

"What?"

_George...come back._

"George?" Sapnap's voice was unusually worried, but he shrugged it off. That voice. He knew that voice. Every fibre of his body was leaning towards the sound, 

"Yeah, just...just give me a second." George trailed off, following the source of the sound. "Hello? Are you still there?"

_George? Is that you?_

He emerged into an idyllic scene. The village was small, sequestered into a small valley. Boats glided along the surface of a glittering lake, and the flowers in the gardens were a riot of colours. 

Wait. 

They had colour. George almost cried with joy. This was like a long forgotten memory that George had tucked away, deep in the recesses of his mind. 

"George! Stop dawdling, dad needs these ingredients for dinner." He started out of his reverie. A girl with long brown hair stood there, her hands and face streaked with dirt. She was holding a basket full of various roots, berries and vegetables, and frowning at him.

"I'm sorry."

"Geez, thinking about your imaginary girlfriend?" She teased, her face widening into a smile. It was like looking at the sun. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and she looked so perfect that he could barely breathe. 

"I am not. Let's just go already." George heard himself say, and his body trailed after his sister. He took in the colours of the flowers dotting the hillside, and the trailing roses along a picket fence. His sister made for the bookstore, where familiar smell of paper and ink greeted him.

"Dad, I've got the vegetables, so can I go now?" She shouted into the aisles of books. 

"Yeah, go ahead. Be back for dinner! George, could you cut the vegetables and pop them in the soup, there's a good lad."

She skipped out of the store and into the kitchen where George was. George leant in: "Give him my best regards."

She washed her face and hands, but that didn't hide the bright red tips of her ears. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

George snickered. "Just don't forget you have a family, okay? Don't go eloping on me or anything."

"Yeah yeah, I hear you mom." She waved at him and dashed out the kitchen. George chuckled and dumped the basket into the sink, letting the water wash off the coarse dirt on the vegetables.

There was a shout, and George popped his head out of the window. A plume of smoke billowed out from the distance, and George pulled his head back in. 

The bakery must've set on fire again. He thought. George didn't take much note of it until he heard shouts and screams. He left the kitchen, standing in the middle of their tiny herb garden and paled. 

Raid. A big one.

The pillagers swarmed down the valley, ravagers dotting the hoard. The guards had put up defenses, but this wasn't like anything they had prepared for. The ravagers rammed into the ragged lines, throwing the guards up into the air. 

"George! Get away from there!" His father roared, bursting into the room. George jumped, the knife falling from his hands and nearly impaling his foot. His father's eyes were fiery, and he pushed George inside. 

"Stay inside. And don't come out until I tell you too." And his father was gone, leaving to help the village. 

George followed what his father said. He didn't leave the house. He squeezed his eyes shut and plugged his ears, trying desperately to drown out the screams of the dying and the crackle of flames. The Ace would help them. He would save them all. He kept thinking that, repeating it like a mantra. Footsteps moved dangerously close to the house, and George scrambled to bar the entrances.

"Open the door!" Someone was pounding against the door, but the tables held firm. They wanted the flag. The flag that brought them here.

"Go away!" He heard himself shriek. "I don't have the flag!" The pounding ceased for a hopeful moment before renewing in vigour. He clapped his hands over his ears, curling into himself. Another sound made itself clear through the chaos echoing in his ears. The frantic ringing of a bell and a woman, screaming.

* * *

It was quiet. Too quiet. Where were the yells of the village? George uncurled himself, looking around furtively. A plank creaked. Someone stepped into the house, stopping at the entrance. The wood around their feet turned green with moss, sprouting tiny saplings and flowers. He looked up, straight into a glowing red eye. 

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a pitch black hand reaching towards his face, cupping his cheek. It wasn't so much of a hand than three claws, as smooth as ivory. A bone white hand slid across his eyes, blocking his vision. 

"You are a special one. You've looked in the face of death, so you have a catalyst," They whispered. Their voice was simultaneously pleasant yet grating, kind yet harsh, gentle yet cruel. It sounded like they were two people mashed into one body. 

"And now, you must be stopped. An obstacle for you to overcome." 

George smelt the acid before he felt it. He screamed and tried to pull away, but that just made it worse. He could feel the rivulets trickling down his face, tracking grooves into his cheeks, burning his hair and searing his eyes. The hand unstuck, and he dropped to the ground, choking on his sobs. His hands burned when they came into contact with his eyes, and he clenched them by his side.

"You will not see the world as others do. You will be different, George." The figure disappeared and left George broken and scarred, in the ruins of what was once his village. 

"Gogy!" Sapnap screamed, and he felt like someone had thrown ice cold water straight from the well onto his head. He jolted out of his trance, his hand flying to his eyes. His melted skin met his hand, cold and wet to the touch. Actually, his whole body was shivering, and he was drenched in sweat.

"George, are you okay? What happened-"

"I don't want to talk about it." George got up, his legs feeling like they would snap under his weight. He wobbled towards the door. 

"Did you at least learn something?" 

"I did." He turned back to Sapnap, who looked genuinely worried. "I wish I didn't." He shut the door and walked out of the tower. With every step he took, his new memories jostled for space, knocking against his current ones, which knocked them out of alignment and gave him a massive headache.

He jerked out of his trance and realised he was standing before the doors of another Tower. He internally groaned. He didn't really want to deal with the Royals right now. George turned to walk away, but the doors creaked open and a quiet gasp stopped him in his tracks.

"George?" Bad was dressed in a duck onesie, and he was holding a yellow throw pillow. "What's wrong?"

"Bad, I-" George took a shaky breath. "-I'm not in the mood to talk right now."

Bad blinked. "That's okay. We can just read. Hot chocolate?"

George was wrapped in a blue blanket and cuddled up on the couch, cradling a steaming mug. He took a sip and sighed, his entire body melting with the heat.

"Feeling better?" George nodded lazily and took another sip. It felt like home: the smell of books, the-

"Oh my goodness, are you crying George?" Bad was by his side in seconds, removing the mug and setting it down on a bedside table. "Come here, King."

"So you knew too." George laughed shakily. 

Bad frowned. "Sapnap just told me. He's also telling me to tell you that he's sorry." 

"You can hear him?"

"Yep! He has complete control over the magic in the castle, so he can communicate telepathically. But enough about that. Why are you crying, George?"

It just came gushing out. The memories, both good and bad came pouring out. George told Bad what he knew between sobs, and to Bad's credit, he listened. He was a good listener, almost as good as- No. Going down that route was something he wasn't mentally prepared for.

When he was done, Bad pulled him into a hug and offered him muffins and a promise that he could stay for as long as he wanted. He swaddled George with more blankets at his request and left to go back to his desk, leaving him to sleep.

George didn't sleep. He sorted through the memories he had, fitting them together carefully. Slowly, he was able to piece together what had happened. 

He had a father. A sister. A raid had happened. Some strange half white, half black creature had wounded him. It must have been the sorcerer that he remembered.

He touched the area around his eyes again, tracing the tracks of the acid. It circled around his eyes, and tendrils of it had dripped down, past his ear and into his hair, leaving thin lines of short, stubbly hair, like water channels through brown fields. How many times had he looked at his reflection in the mirror and hated it? He closed his eyes again, sorting through the new memories. 

* * *

George jerked awake, his goggles falling into his lap. He had heard something. Bad had turned off the lights, and George fumbled for a lamp before realizing he could conjure up his own light source. A ghostly blue flame ignited in the palm of his hand, and he gathered the blankets closer around him and padded to the door. 

There was a dark trail on the flagstones, and black footsteps beside them. The smell of iron confirmed that it was blood. George followed the trail, noting that the blood pools were growing, from droplets to full on smears across the stone. The door to the Ace Tower was ajar, and George considered going back to Bad's tower. But the blood deterred him. Dream could be hurt. And as much of an insensitive prick he was, he had still helped George. 

"Dream?" He called out softly, pushing the door open. The place was brightly lit up, with candles on every available surface. The lamps were lit too, and the windows were shut, giving the place a slightly higher temperature than the outside. In the flickering light, the black liquid looked like puddles of melted obsidian.

George stepped over them, towards the figure sitting on the floor. "Dream?" He called again.

"What do you want, George?" Dream sounded tired, and he turned around. His mask still hadn't been replaced, and that brilliant gold eye pinned him in place. He swallowed and sat down. 

"I want to apologise." 

Dream raised his eyebrow. Now that George was beside Dream, he could clearly see the stains on his poncho, and the torn and tattered front. 

"I'm serious, Dream. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all those things."

Dream remained silent, wrapping the bandages around his arm. He cut off the strip of cloth and tied it neatly around his wrist before he spoke.

"I'm sorry too." He didn't look at George, but he slowly peeled off his gloves, weighing them in his hand. "It's not true, you know. You are special. I picked you for a reason, George."

George hummed, pressing his hand to Dream's back. It came away coated in black, and Dream hissed. 

"What did you do?"

"I went to Diamonds." George waited, but Dream didn't elaborate. 

"Okay, but you can't keep wearing that. It's going to infect you. I'll brew you something for the pain and the wounds."

"No regen pots please. Or instant health."

George was about to ask, but then thought the better of it. "Sure. I'll make a village remedy then. It works wonders."

"You know how to brew?"

A memory surfaced. His sister who had a secret crush on the village cleric, teaching him about potions, and which herbs and plants could do the trick in a pinch. She claimed it was to help him, but George knew it was just so that she could brag that her brother also knew potion brewing. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." He smiled at Dream and got up. "When I come back, I expect that filthy piece of clothing to be off and in a basket." He closed the door in Dream's face and walked down the hallway. After a silent apology, he used one of Bad's blankets to wipe the black liquid off the floor.

He made his way to the alchemy lab and the kitchen, looking around for the herbs he needed. Bottles of boiled water, netherwart, some tea, some fermented spider eye and some blaze powder. He moved purposefully, and for the first time in his life, he realised he kenw exactly what to do. He remembered a brewing stand in Dream's tower, and he grabbed a basket and dropped his potion ingredients in. 

George pushed the door open, noting that Dream had changed into a clean shirt and pants, and he was sitting on the bed. He pushed the basket of bloodied clothes away, dragging the potion stand towards the foot of the bed. Up close, Dream's wounds were not that bad, but they were large, and wounds of this size tend to get infected quickly.

George prepped three bottles and pushed them under the prongs. He shook some blaze powder into the potion stand and let it gurgle. With careful precision, he sliced up three pieces of netherwart, then dropped them into each bottle. When the water bubbled and steamed, he pushed tea leavs into the bottles and added the fermented spider eye into the bottles. The potion was starting to thicken, bubbling sluggishly. Moving quickly, he added a little more blaze powder into the potion bottles and let them boil for a while more. 

What he got when he removed it was supposed to be a dull orange, but to him looked like a bright shade of dandelion yellow. He sniffed it, getting a whiff of a faint cinnamon which confirmed that it was brewed correctly. 

"I'll be honest right now, that just looked like you were using random ingredients to try and kill me." Dream eyed the bottles with extreme prejudice, his one eye flicking from George to the bottle he was holding.

"It's like a strength pot, with some herbs sprinkled in. It's a family recipe, I don't expect you to know it. I mean, this isn't in any books I've read."

"How many have you read?"

"All of them."

"That's reassuring."

George laughed, pressing the bottle into Dream's hands and scooting closer. He started to clean the wounds, dabbing a cloth soaked in an awkward potion. He looked up to see Dream sniffing the drink suspiciously. 

"I promise that it will not kill you, Dream." Dream stared at him for a long moment before lifting his mask and taking a sip. Satisfied, George turned back to the potion stand, where he had made more awkward potions. He dropped the fresh bandages into the water for a split second before pulling them out. 

"Hold out your arm." George slapped the wet strips of cloth onto Dream's arm, ignoring the hiss. He wrapped the cuts up, reaching over to rummage through his basket for his last item.

When he withdrew a golden apple, Dream just about jumped away from him. 

"I said no regen or instant health. That includes golden apples." Dream hissed, backpedaling away from George. 

"Dream, it's just one apple! Just take a bite. The wounds might be infected with god knows what, so just eat it." George grabbed Dream's hand and dropped the apple into his palm.

Dream lifted his mask slightly and bit into the golden flesh, trying to mask the shudder of relief that passed through him. 

"You got your memories back." George looked up, into that golden eye of his again. Dream was strangely perceptive when it came to him, for some reason. 

"Yeah I did."

"Did you figure out what happened?"

"I saw it." George's reply ended the conversation, and he lifted the basket and the potion stand, wincing as his new stitches stretched. "Well, good night." 

"Good night."

There was a stilted pause, and George settled for a little nod before leaving the tower with all of his things. 

As he left, he couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, Dream had forgiven him for what he'd said.


	17. Advancement made: Subspace Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE NEARING THE END NOW PEEPS

George awoke to the sound of horns, their low mournful note carrying across great distances and echoing through the castle. He moved to his window. 

A small group were gathered at the front doors of the castle, their flags marking them as envoys from Hearts. He watched as Sapnap went out to receive them. They talked for a while, and Sapnap gestured to their castle, waving the small group in.

"George!" Bad burst into his room. He was wearing thin wire frame glasses, and his outfit was slightly disheveled. "You need to get to the throne room. Now."

* * *

The moment George stepped into the room, the tension was palpable. Wilbur, Tommy and an unfamiliar face was seated on one side of the table, and Sapnap and Bad were seated on the other side. Dream was not present. George took a tentative seat beside Bad, who smiled at him. 

"Right, now that we're all here, I think we can get down to business." Wilbur folded his hands on the table, staring down George. "Our Ace has been brutally murdered, at a public event, no less. We've come to apprehend the suspect."

"You're saying George here killed your Ace? Come on, Wilbur. I've seen George in action, and believe me when I say that his skills are average."

"Thanks a bunch, Sapnap."

"Regardless of his fighting ability, we still have to apprehend him. He is an accessory to crime, and you will do well to follow." For a moment, Wilbur's eyes flickered, glowing yellow for an instance. "You do not want Hearts as an enemy."

"Maybe I do, Wilbur. You're taking away a Royal without concrete evidence." The two Queens glared at each other, and their warring magic crackled around them, ready to defend their people. 

"Fellas, can't we go about this in a civilised way?" Tommy stood up, looking side to side. "I mean, I don't see how Gogy here can lift a sword, much less stab a bitch. And Philza is no bitch."

"Tommy, how many times have I told you, let me handle the fucking negotiations!"

"Yeah, but I'm the Jack, innit? That means I'm smarter than you, bitch boy."

"You are a child, Tommy."

"How the fuck dare you. Listen here, you big pussy. I didn't come here to listen to you talk shit about-"

"That's nice and all, but could we please get back to the topic at hand?" Bad smiled, his thin veneer of calm chipping away. "George has done nothing wrong other than be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Then this means war." All eyes turned to the unfamiliar face, who glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. "Does it not?"

"Who the fuck is he, Wilbur?"

"I'm Jack Manifold, sir. I'm a member of the Fifth Division, sir. I've heard a lot about you, Tommy. The Demon Officer. The one who singlehandedly replenished our failing gapple stocks and fought a whole orc raiding party."

"Don't inflate his already bloated ego."

"Shut up, Wilbur. I want to hear how much of a big man I am from his mouth."

"As we were saying: yes, Manifold is right. This will mean war once Technoblade finds out. He is in quite an apoplectic rage right now." Wilbur stood up, poking at Tommy to follow him. "We expect to see you on the other side, gentlemen." They left, leaving a heavy silence behind.

George broke it first. "It's my fault, isn't it?"

Sapnap and Bad were silent. 

"Oh my god it is. It is, isn't it?" George pressed his trembling hands to his lips and blew, trying to warm them. "This war...this tension...this is all my fault. I shouldn't have been chosen. Dream picked the wrong-"

"See, now there's where you're wrong." Dream hopped off the windowsill, dusting off his poncho. Bandages still peeked out from below his sleeves, but he looked healthy, his old mask replaced with another. 

"I told you, George. You're special. I didn't mean that in a consoling kind of way. Your magic is different, even Phil said so." A cloud settled onto the room when Phil was mentioned.

"Listen, George. Dream picked you to be our King. That means we're a team now, whether you think it was meant to be or not."

"Yeah, you're one of a kind, George. That means we'll mop up whatever messes we have. Together."

"Thanks, guys." 

"Now, we're going straight to Hearts to convince Technoblade to call off the war." George stared at Dream like he'd just suggested they go and live with a pack of rabid wolves.

"What?"

"You heard me, George. Come on, we gotta get to the portal room."

* * *

When Dream mentioned portal room, his mind immediately conjured up a massive room, with vaulted ceilings and magic items. He did not expect a small, dingy room, lit only by ghostly blue lamps. In the centre of the room, there was a ring, made of some kind of glossy black material.

He watched as Dream produced a flint and steel and coaxed a spark into the frame. Immediately, the portal lit up, a dark blue screen appearing in the frame. When George pushed his hand through, it felt like he was touching a slime block. Dream gestured for him to step through, disappearing through the portal with a wave. 

George stepped up into the portal frame, his vision swirling with blue and black. He stepped out, feeling like he'd just taken a shower in slime.

"Welcome...to the Nether."

The Nether was hot. Within moments of being in this place, George had already begun to sweat, his glasses slipping down his nose. He looked at Dream with his getup and wondered how he was breathing in that mask. 

The Nether was dark. The dirt, the stone that he stood on, the fog floating over the land, everything was pitch black. The only source of light was the bright yellow lava, bubbling sluggishly down the sides of the islands, into endless expanses of molten gold.

"What are we doing here, Dream?" George pulled at his shirt, feeling the burning heat seep through his boots. 

"Travel in the Nether is faster. Sure, it burns and is more dangerous, but it's faster." Dream's hand closed around George's wrist, and he jumped. Against his sweat slicked skin, Dream's hand was feverishly warm.

"Lucky for us, our Jacks have devised a way for speedy and safe travel, with the help of Trayaurus and our very own alchemist, Sam." Dream guided him to a boat sitting on a mound of ice. How it wasn't melting was beyond George, but he caught sight of blue runes, carved into electric blue stone. 

Ice crystals, which kept the ice fresh. "Where are you getting these?" George marvelled, squeezing into the boat that Dream was in. 

"I did mention Sam, right? He's an alchemist, and a damn good one at that. But for these rarities, he's got some...let's say friends, who are willing to give out goodies."

Dream dug his paddle into the surface of the ice and they sped off, zooming over the ice at impossible speeds. The railings on either side of the ice bridge prevented them from careening off into the Nether, but that didn't stop them from crashing into the wood and spinning like that demented potion mixer that his sister had made. He could hear Dream whooping as he guided them along the ice bridge at breakneck speeds, and George felt like he was hitting every single fence post on purpose.

When the ride finally stopped, Dream had to physically haul George out because his legs felt like they had been glued to the boat. He was pretty sure he left fingernail scratches on the boat. They stepped through another portal, and George welcomed the sweet air of the Overworld. 

"Tommy?" The boy in the portal room spun around, his eyes wide with fear. Tubbo stared at Dream, his hands stalling above a navy blue stone. 

"Tubbo, are you done yet-" Fundy froze on the stairwell, and his ears flickered, pressing down against his scalp. "Hello Dream."

"Fundy? What are you doing here?" Dream took a step towards Fundy, who backed away slowly. His lip curled upwards, revealing canine fangs. 

"Tubbo, get behind me." Fundy pressed Tubbo back with his hand, the latter staring at this standoff with wide eyes. 

"Fundy, don't do this. The peace between Spades and Hearts is already fragile as it is, I don't want you worsening it."

"Is it for you or for me, Dream," Fundy snapped, a growl rumbling in his chest. "I'm trying to do something here, and you- you just come in here and try to act the hero."

"Fundy please-"

"No. I won't bow down to you anymore. I'm sick of it." Fundy's tail became two, then four, then eight, then finally, nine. His hands changed, turning into claws. His face elongated into a muzzle, and he lunged at Dream, who went down. 

Fundy snapped at Dream's neck, his mouth open and baring his teeth. George wasn't an expert on fox language, but he could tell Fundy was serious. With a snarl, he latched onto Dream's arm and shook it viciously. Dream wasn't even fighting. He just lay there, weakly batting at Fundy.

Finally, Fundy stopped, his mouth dripping with black. "Why? Why won't you fight back?" He yelled. Dream reached up, wrapping his arms around Fundy. He thrashed around, trying to escape the embrace while Dream stroked his head. 

"I'm sorry, Fundy." Dream whispered, pressing his hand against the back of his head. 

Fundy shrunk, his claws turning into hands and his tails disappearing. He screeched, the sound echoing in the room and drumming against George's head.

"Why? Why do you do this to me?" Fundy grabbed at Dream's clothes. George got the feeling that maybe he was intruding on something personal, and shuffled awkwardly. When the couple remained oblivious, he moved towards the stairs, finding Tubbo crouched there, out of sight. George sat down beside him and listened to the broken wails drifting up the stairwell. 

"So...what's with the blue stone?" Tubbo was still cradling the stone, and he turned to George. 

"Blue? It's purple, George." 

George scratched his neck awkwardly. "Sorry. The lighting really messed with it, you know?" 

"Yeah." Tubbo pressed the stone closer to his chest. The crying had ceased, occassional sniffling taking its place. "It's a scrying stone. Fundy needs it for his project." 

"Tubbo." THey both turned to Fundy, who was standing in the stairwell. "We're leaving." He reached out and grasped Tubbo's hand, dragging him past Dream and into the portal. They disappeared with a quiet swoosh, leaving George and Dream alone. 

"So...are we going to talk to Technoblade or not?" George was eyeing Dream's arm, which was soaked through with black. 

"Of course. Let's go." Dream limped towards the door, pressing his arm against his side. They walked in silence down the corridors, turning around and around until they reached the throne room. Dream paused, one hand on the door. 

"I want you to stay behind me, alright?" Dream said softly. "Techno doesn't mean any harm, but grief can change a man. And if he sees you as a threat, then I can only hope you're fast." He pressed a potion into George's hand. It was a smaller vial than the regular size, but the potion was thicker. The liquid was blue, with flecks of silver suspended in it. He pocketed it, and Dream pushed the door open. 

Technoblade looked war weary. He looked up when Dream and George came into the room, and George caught a fleeting glimpse of tears, before Techno's face hardened into a mask. 

"What do you want." George flinched backwards, but Dream stepped forward, undeterred. 

"I want to prove our innoence, Techno. Specifically, George's innocence."

"What is there to prove? He has Phil's blood on his hands. He is not innocent." Techno roared, and not for the first time, George wondered faintly how he would even try to escape Techno.

"Techno, you're not listening." Dream's voice was quiet and firm. "George was framed. I have evidence." He held out a knife in his hand. The handle was an intricately wrought one, but George's eyes were riveted to the rusty stains on its blade.

"This has Phil's blood on it, correct? I can find out the truth with this." 

"Spit it out, or get out of my kingdom." Techno's hand trailed down to his sword.

Dream nodded amicably. "Very well. We can summon Phil's soul-"

"No. I won't allow it."

"But Techno, this is the only way-"

"I will not let you taint my father's memory with dark magic!" This time, he really did pull out his sword, angling it at Dream. "Leave now, before I do something we both regret."

Dream seemed frozen in place, but George grabbed his by the forearm and dragged him backwards. "Come on, Dream. It's not worth it," he whispered.

"I thought I could..." Dream mumbled, letting himself be dragged backwards. George bowed hastily to Techno and shut the door behind them. 

"I'm sorry George. I couldn't prove your innocence," Dream murmured.

"It's fine. I would rather go home with a target on my back than a dead Ace on my hands," George muttered, looking for the portal room. The glass portraits had suddenly become menacing, glowering down at them like a pantheon of gods judging them for their sins. 

"Take a left, then down that flight of stairs." Dream gestured vaguely at the direction, and George adjusted his route.

"Dream, get off. You can walk, so I don't need to drag you."

"That meeting drained me." But Dream still did get up, walking beside George and guiding him to the portal room. 

This time, the heat of the Nether didn't bother George as much anymore, though he still broke out in sweat instantly after going through the portal. The boat ride back to the castle was a silent one, each absorbed in their own thoughts. 

When they parted ways at the entrance of Spades, George made for the bookstore immediately, digging up any kind of book on the nether and humans who were able to shapeshift. The bookstore didn't have much on shape shifters, but it had plenty on the nether. 

He brought all these into the Ace tower and cracked his knuckles, smiling to himself. He was going to get so much work done.

* * *

An hour later, George quickly packed up, hiding his secret stash of books and papers in an empty drawer and peeking outside. There was something else he wanted to do. 

He slinked out of the castle, to the place where he had seen the knights sparring before, on a humid afternoon. The racks were piled with gleaming swords, and George lifted one that looked the lightest. He slashed it through the air, feeling the sword drag at his wrists. God, it was so heavy. How did they do this? Sparring everyday with these felt like hell to George. But then again, maybe he was inexperienced. 

"What are you doing?"

George yelped and spun around, nearly decapitating the speaker. He dropped the rapier, backing away from the rack, pretending like he didn't just touch a sword. 

"I was just...looking. At the swords." George finished lamely, gesturing towards the one half buried in the dirt. 

A humanoid sheep stood in front of him. They had long, flowing wool dyed in yellow, blue and purple, and their eyes were goatlike and slitted. They harrumped loudly and picked up the sword, sliding their hooved fingers across the blade. 

"Careful with this, you might cut yourself." Her voice was surprisingly gentle, and she held out her hand. "Captain Puffy, at your service." 

George grasped her hand and shook it; the fingers he grabbed were hard and actually felt like hooves. But unlike the bovine animals, her hooves had separated into five fingers. 

"Captain?"

Puffy drew herself up, drawing attention to her medals and her crisp uniform. "Second in command to the king's knights, and captain of the sixth regiment." 

"Why are you here?"

"Well I was going to retire to bed, but I saw a greenhorn messing around with the practice swords." George flushed darkly, but Puffy smiled kindly at him. 

"First time holding a blade, sonny?" She unsheathed her own sword, the silver blade humming through the air with practiced grace.

"Teach me." George blurted out. 

"Sorry?" Puffy sheathed her own sword. 

"Teach me how to fight. I have to- no, I want to learn." George looked up at Puffy, who he realised was barely taller than him. 

"Are you sure? It'll be tough, you know." Puffy lifted his hands and looked at them, inspecting his wrists and his fingers. "You look more like a mage to me, with these kind of hands. Maybe a villager?" Upon seeing George's astonished face, she laughed, the sound long and bleating.

"I can smell the hay and herbs on you, you know. It's faint, but still there." Puffy rubbed his hands one more time and let it go. "Well, if you really want to, meet me here again, tomorrow morning." Puffy waved him away, insisting that he needed to sleep to get productive tomorrow morning. 

George went back to his room, but he didn't sleep. He sat awake, reading until the early vestiges of dawn came creeping in through his window. Only then did he let sleep drag him under.


	18. Advancement made: Suit up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF POISONING IN THIS CHAPTER. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. 
> 
> On a side note, we're coming close to the end now boys, girls and non binary pals!

"Well, well. And here I was thinking that you wouldn't show up." Puffy chuckled. 

George had shown up late, gasping for breath and his hair plastered to his forehead. His skin was already burning in the heat, and he could see the rest of the knights slowing their spars down a little to watch him. But a quick shout from Puffy was enough to make them increase the ferocity of their strikes.

"Sorry, I-" George gasped for air. "-I overslept."

"Hmph. We're going to assess your skill first, so...Purpled! Come here." One of the soldiers detached from his partner, who headed off elsewhere. The boy had dark blonde hair and dark purple eyes. 

"Yeah? What's up, Captain?"

"Purpled, I need you to fight a few rounds with..."

"George."

"With George here for a while. Just so I can check where he stands. Is that okay?" Purpled looked at George, sizing him up. 

"Yeah, sure." He picked out a sword from the rack and tossed it to George, who barely able to grab it without slicing his fingers off. 

"George, don't worry about your stance or anything. It's okay. Just fight like your life depends on it." Puffy patted him on his back and pushed him towards Purpled. 

"Whenever you're ready, boys!"

Purpled narrowed his eyes, watching George slide into a fighting stance. The sword was heavy, and it drooped slightly. Purpled darted forward, and his sword nicked George's cheek. George swung his sword at Purpled, who easily sidestepped the clumsy swing. 

* * *

George looked at the ground. Sweat rained down gently onto the dirt. He could feel the grittiness of the dust clinging to his sweat slicked skin, and his cuts throbbed with heat. 

"Thank you, Purpled." Puffy crouched down in front of George. "Well, looks like you need to be with the beginners. Don't worry, you performed better than I thought you would."

George swallowed and not trusting himself to speak, nodded instead. 

"Now, go take a shower, there's a good lad. You can come back in the evening, when it's cooler."

George fled for the bath, stripping off his soiled clothes and and immersing himself into a tub. He sighed, feeling the layers of dirt lift off his skin. He dunked his head under the water and rubbed the soap into his hair, trying to get the grit out. He changed into something looser and stepped back into his room. Maybe he would read a little, just to pass the time.

His eyes fell onto the book describing the Nether, and he opened it to where he bookmarked it. He really should have searched the royal archives for anything like this before using his own meagre savings to get anything. 

_'_ The Nether,' it read. 'Is a dangerous place, filled with strange creatures.' The next few pages were filled with detailed charcoal drawings, and George remembered that zoglin that had cracked his ribs several weeks ago. One particular drawing caught his eye. 

One was a finely detailed blob, with long, white tentacles trailing from it. Its face looked almost angelic, with closed eyes and tear tracks running down its face. The next page was a nightmare. The eyes were open, and someone had use ruby red dye to colour the pupils a hateful shade of maroon. Its mouth had unhinged as well, and there was a smaller, hasty sketch of a fireball. 

_'_ These accursed things can be found everywhere, and they can be heard before they are sighted. They make high pitched mewling sounds, similar to that of a cat. However, when they spot you, their voice will morph and change into a note too high for human ears. You will only hear a ringing sound. I advise you run then. _'_

The Nether sounded terrible. Dead, completely red and lava in the place of water. It sounded like hell.

Then again, George thought, maybe it was meant to be. The parts of the Nether he had glimpsed looked safe, and he swore he'd seen forests there too. 

* * *

He arrived back at the training field, his cuts bandaged. He felt jittery, and the sounds of metal against metal rang out clearly. Puffy was adjusting someone's stand, lifting up their arms and knocking their legs together. She moved to face the figure and brought her sword down, but the figure darted to the side, a gleam of metal blocking Puffy's blow. They exchanged blows back and forth for a bit before stopping and shaking hands. The other figure walked off, and George finally deemed it safe to approach. 

"Hello George! You're a little early, but we'll be going over some of the basic stuff first. Stances, a few simple techniques, spars, stuff like that. Sounds good?"

"Yeah, that sounds okay." He looked at Puffy's cloven fingers. "Captain Puffy? How do you hold swords? Because of, you know." He gestured towards her hands. 

"Just Puffy is alright." She unsheathed her sword and held it out towards George. The hilt of the sword was different from the ones he'd held, with contoured edges and grips. It looked like a work of art.

"Sam made this for me. I've never seen him personally, but without him, I wouldn't be able to even hold a sword." She slid her fingers into the grip, and George could see how the curves fitted her hooves snugly, cushioning them.

"Ready?" Puffy gestured for him to take a sword and dropped into a defensive stance. George copied her, and the spar started.

During the fight, George had the feeling that Puffy was calculating her moves, and watching him closely. When the spar ended with George spread starfish on the dirt ground, gasping for air, she hummed triumphantly. 

"George, are you by any chance an axe wielder?"

"A what?"

"You've probably seen axe wielders in action, and unconsciously copied their stance." Puffy had a knowing smile on, and George admitted that yes, he had seen more action with axes than with swords. 

"Alright, we'll try out axes in a bit, but first." She lifted George up, inspecting his arms. "You need to get some muscle on. Chop chop, start running!"

With a defeated groan, George set off, jogging around the track with barely any moonlight to see. He could already feel his stitches pulling at his ribs.

* * *

"Alright, here. This here is a standard issue axe, let's see how you hold it." Puffy handed George an iron axe. He took it from her hand, adjusting it to his grip. 

"You're left handed?" Puffy asked. George nodded. "That's interesting. Okay, we'll do a sparring session, and I'll teach you some stances and techniques, alright?"

George readied his axe, nodding. "Okay."

Puffy narrowed her eyes and attacked. George dodged, bringing down his axe onto Puffy's fingers. At the last second, he made it so that it glanced off her hooves. 

"Fight!" Puffy roared, slamming her sword onto George's axe. "Fight like your life depends on it!"

She spun around elegantly, flicking her sword and nicking George's knuckles. He dropped his axe, and he looked up at the point of a diamond sword. 

"Because one day, it will."

* * *

George studied his hands. They were covered with splinters, and he picked them out slowly, wincing at each tug. The wood was waterlogged from his shower. He reached for a roll of bandage and cut it into thin strips, wrapping them around each individual finger and broader strips around his palm.

Puffy had been especially hard on George, even though it had been his first spar. His hands had kept slipping on the handle of the axe, and he had gotten so many splinters that he felt like his palms were more wood than flesh. His entire body hurt, and his muscles screamed when he tried to get up. He wondered if there was something he could get for the pain, and took to the streets. 

* * *

"Get your vegetables here!"

"Fish!! Fresh from the sea! Salmon and cod!"

"Potions here!! Regeneration, health and strength potions here!"

The town had so many interesting shops, and everywhere he turned, there was something that caught George's eye. He recognised the candy store, Sugarplum Star, and he noted down the locations of the apothecary and such. He should've followed Skeppy to the town when he had offered. 

George wandered around, peeking into a bakery, where a woman rushed around, calling out orders to tiny orbs of light which seemed capable of carrying trays of baked goods. The smell from that place was heavenly.

George continued walking, until he spotted a shop window proclaiming that it sold cures for the common cold, love potions and ointments that would clear up your skin. 

He entered the shop, a cheerful chiming announcing his presence. Bottles lined the shelf, and bags of colourful powders lay open. The air was heavy with the scent of unspent magic, and he walked up to the counter. 

"Excuse me, but do you have a potion for pain relief?" George called out. After a few moments, a dark skinned man hurried out. 

"Welcome to Ponk's Potions, how may I help you?" The man was wearing a lava patterned mask, covering everything but his eyes. He wore a long, white smock smiliar to what Dr Trayaurus wore, but Ponk's had several suspicious looking stains.

"Do you have pain relievers?" George asked again. 

"We might have something, yes. Let me check." Ponk disappeared behind the counter again, and reappeared with a bottle filled with a viscous red liquid. "Will this work? A regen potion with a little painkillers in them."

"I think that's okay." George paid for the bottle and stepped out of the shop, looking around the market square. It looked so peaceful, with people bustling around, haggling for prices. He turned away, but a massive explosion knocked him off his feet. 

He got up, his ears ringing. What was happening?

Orcs. 

He had seen pictures of them, but those paled in comparison to the real deal.

8 feet tall, they had psychedelic colours splashed over their shoulders, chest and face, and they brandished iron weapons. But it was their aura. The weapons in their hands were surrounded with a blood red aura, and their eyes gleamed like rubies. 

They roared in their guttural language, thundering off to the streets. Screams echoed down the streets. 

No.

Not again.

George looked around frantically. He needed to stop the orcs. But how? He could barely lift a weapon, and there were more orcs than him. The answer came to him in the form of a rabid child.

Tommy lunged at him, practically crackling with magic. He cackled, his sword arcing towards George's stomach. 

A flash of blue ignited in George's hand, and he swung his arm. A huge axe was there, intercepting Tommy's blow with ease. Tommy jumped back, his eyes flickering to the axe. George's vision was tinted blue again, and he added a layer of enchantments onto his faux axe. Tommy's eyes flickered up to the blade, and he snarled and jumped away. 

The axe dissolved in his grip, and George turned to the orcs. He needed to use magic. But what was he supposed to make? He racked his brains, digging through the hundreds of tomes he had read. What were orcs scared of?

Leviathans. 

George pulled up a mental image for a sea dragon, spinning his magic into a large dragon. He took a deep breath, and he screamed. It echoed off the streets, becoming the dragon's roar. He looked up slowly. 

An absolutely massive blue and purple dragon loomed over him, stripes of white and teal cutting down its spine in lightning bolts. It roared again, using George's voice as a guide. The orcs shouted, fear and confusion evident in their voices. George set the dragon to rampage around and snap at the orcs and started to sneak away. 

Unfortunately, while the orcs were distracted, the officers weren't so much. 

"Where are you headed, George?" The casual tone made him freeze up, and he turned slowly, seeing Wilbur behind him. The Queen was literally glowing with magic, and George gulped. 

"I-"

"George. I am going to give you five seconds." Wilbur picked his way towards George, that smile always on his face. 

George ran. 

Wilbur creeped the hell out of him, and as he ran, he heard the charge up of magic. His vision tinted blue, and he dodged. A bolt of viscous yellow crashed into the side of a building, sizzling into the stonework. Behind him, he heard Wilbur screaming at the orcs to find him, find the blue magician now. When he looked down, his body was flickering in and out of existence. He looked at the castle. So close, yet so far. 

He took a deep breath and ran for it. 

He didn't hear shouting at first. Then his vision faded back to normal, and he heard the roars. That only encouraged him to run faster, tripping up the stairs. He pounded on the large double doors, watching the orcs lumber towards him. 

"Let me in!!" He screamed. There was a click, and the hairs on the back of his neck fizzled. He looked behind again, and a wave of fire crashed onto the orcs, burning them into ash. 

The door opened, and George slipped inside, just in time. He heard several thuds, and a metal point emerged from the side. He looked up to see Bad, his hands pressed against the door. 

"Bad, what the hell?" George asked breathlessly, leaning against the door. "What's going on?"

Bad turned to George, his white eyes dimming slightly. "We're at war, George." His voice sounded weary, and he beckoned to George. "Come on, we gotta get to the- _George_!!"

George sagged. He felt warmth trickling down from his chest, and he realised that he was bleeding. A metal point emerged from his chest, and he heard a primal scream of triumph as he succumbed to the darkness. 

"Well? You're the doctor, not the fucking-"

"He's losing blood."

"Oh, yeah. No shit he's losing blood."

"...totem."

"Absolutely not. It's too..."

George cracked his eyes open. He was in a darkened room, and he smelt tallow and herbs and linen. Two dark shapes were standing at the far end, and he recognised one of the shapes as Bad, with his signature halo. 

He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced him back down, and bile poked at the back of his throat. He fell into a chasm filled with ink.

George was burning. Fire wrapped around his stomach and crawled under his skin, and his head hurt. He swallowed, but the fire kept creeping up. He gagged and turned to the side, vomiting flames. It didn't stop, until he felt like his body was cooling to subzero temperatures. A cooling pack pressed against his back, kneading at the tense knots and patting him gently. 

It was dark again. His bedsheets were stained with black splotches, and George cried out hoarsely. Was this it? Is this the end? Would he die?

Someone pressed a hand against his forehead, and he reflexively leaned into the cool touch. A glass was lifted to his lips, and he drank weakly, savouring the frosted coolness. A voice murmured encouragements to him, and he finished the glass and was laid back onto the pillow. He slipped into a hopeful sleep. 

He awoke to the smell of sulfur in his nostrils and lava in his throat. Boiling water streaked his face and his throat was scalded as he choked and spluttered on the poison. He cried for his family and his village. George had been through a lot. But in that moment, he would've been very happy to die.

* * *

"Dream, you're going to let him die?"

...

"No, I don't care that your stupid-"

... 

"Fuck you, he needs regen right now." 

There was some clattering and gentle, soft hands brushed his hair out of his face. The tiny pinpricks told George that Fundy was handling him. A bottle was lifted to his lips, and when he sipped, the sweet, fruity taste of the regeneration potion following. He sighed as the healing magic gushed down his throat and chased away the inferno burning within him. His vision cleared, and he saw Dream and Fundy hovering above him. 

Fundy looked up at Dream. "See? It wouldn't kill you to use potions once in a while, you know." He set the half empty bottle down and walked out of the infirmary. Dream took a seat beside George. 

"What happened?" It took an enormous effort to just say those two words. 

"You were poisoned. The sword had it on, and you were stabbed." Dream bowed his head. "You nearly died too."

"How long was I out?" George asked hoarsely.

"Three days. This is the first time you were coherent."

George lay back with a groan. "How did this happen?"

"War." Dream said simply. "Hearts has declared war on us, and we are besieged. When you were first attacked, Techno sent us a letter."

"Dear god."

"There's more, but you just recovered. Go to sleep, George."

George was already exhausted by the short conversation, but questions were running around in his head, demanding that he answer them. Dream got up and blew out the candle. 

"Wait- I got- Dream! I have questions for you."

"I'll answer them once you wake up, George. But I can't have my king dying on me now. Sleep." And George's body shut down as if on command. 

* * *

He woke up again, slowly, more tortuously. No one was in the room, but he spotted some other bulges in the beds. George swallowed, seeing that some of the bumps had red spotted bandages on them.

He shifted, and felt something poking his side. He swatted at it, and it clattered onto the floor. He didn't even have the strength to look over. Someone shifted near him, and a tiny light flickered to life. It peeped at him, nudging his hand. It felt warm and vaguely furry, and George hummed at the sensation. 

"Are you alright? Sorry, I'm a little overworked right now, there's been a new influx of soldiers." An attractive young lady bustled over. She smelt sweet, like cookies and bread and lilies, and George felt his stomach grumble. 

She giggled. "Are you hungry? That's a good sign. I'll get you something to eat." She turned to the little orb of light and clicked at it affectionately and walked away, setting down a tray some distance away. 

George lay staring at the ceiling, until those familiar footsteps came back. 

"How are you feeling?" Dream stepped aside to let the matron work. She uncovered a plate and set it on George's lap, helping him into a sitting position. It was a simple fare of soup and bread, but George wolfed the food down. The salty broth warmed his insides, and he felt decidedly better once he had finished. 

"Slow down, you'll choke." She rubbed him on the back, and check his wrist, his eyes and his tongue. "Okay, he's good to go. But he has to come back weekly for checkups, and he can't do strenuous activities for these few days." She patted Dream on hid back and dashed off to another part of the infirmary. 

"What's going on?" George watched Dream turn, revealing bandages that peeked out of the top of his collar. 

"I'll tell you later. But first, let's get you settled in, shall we?"


	19. The Beginning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you for sticking with me for so long ;~; it really means a lot to me! Keep an eye out for the next book, Silver Tongue. In the meantime, you can check out my short story collection: Tales of the Universe.

George chewed on his lip. The news Dream had just given him was not good. 

"So we have no one?" 

Dream stopped his relentless pacing and sighed. "Yes. Clover is always neutral, Diamonds want nothing to do with us, and Heart is opposing us."

"But why?" George pressed. "Why won't Diamonds help us? We're their biggest trade partner."

"Dan said something about keeping their food stock intact and not wanting to waste lives on a 'private matter'," Dream said bitterly. 

"I can fight." The words were out of George's mouth before he realised it. 

"No. No, no no. You can't fight. We're under siege right now; this is the safest place."

"But I want to help!" George insisted. "I've been training, I've been working on-"

"George! You cannot fight. I swear upon my life, I will bar you from the battlefield til my dying breath." Dream turned to look at him. 

"I'm not some innocent child you need to protect!" George hissed. His hands drifted to the scars on his chest; a long centipede of stitches from the zoglin, and a more recent, puckered scar on his stomach. "I've been through pain."

"Not like this, you haven't." Dream was starting to get irritated, George could tell. His stance, his voice, everything gave it away. He was so easy to read, even when his face was covered. 

"Why? You can't just ask me to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, watching as our men die!" George fought to keep his voice from rising. 

"Because I don't want you to die!! I don't want to - gods forbid - I don't want to lose another Royal!" Dream's voice cracked, and for a moment, George could hear the mounting desperation. He realised that this might not have been the first time Dream had had to dissuade a headstrong Royal and absently, he wondered how many generations Dream had seen die. 

"Okay." George nodded, surprising himself. "Okay, I won't fight. But I still want to help. It's my country as much as it is yours, Ace." He could tell he did the right thing. Dream's body posture visibly relaxed, and he unclenched his fists. 

"You can help in the infirmary," Dream offered. "Lily's been really overworked lately."

"Lily?" 

"Yeah. She's one of our top physicians. Don't worry, you don't have to be in the wards forever, just enough so that Lily and her team can catch a breath. You can also help Sam out; God knows he needs someone to remind him to eat and sleep." 

George nodded. "And what are you going to do?"

"Me? I'm the reconnaissance team. It's dangerous and hard, but it's helping out." 

"Is the situation good?" George already knew the answer.

Dream stared at him for a long while and sighed. "No."

* * *

"Uhm...Lily, was it? I've been assigned to help you." George waved timidly, looking at the various people wandering around. 

One of them seemed to be intertwined with plants, with several tiny saplings growing out of his dark brown hair and a curtain of moss wrapped around his neck. He drifted around, exchanging smiles and kind words with the patients. 

Another one looked the polar opposite, with a face that looked more bone than flesh, the skin bruised a dark purple. A wisp of smoke curled from beneath ink black hair, and he was mostly silent, ticking off his papers and gliding around, checking on his patients. 

"Oh! Yes, Dream did tell me about it. I'm Lilypichu, but you can call me Lily. Here, I'll walk you through what you need to do." Lily smiled, waving over George to a patient's bed.

Slowly, she taught him how to change bandages, how to rinse wounds and how to prepare dressings. He had been shown the room where the regeneration soaked bandages were and immediately withdrew his head. The smell of berries was sickly sweet, and George couldn't stand it. 

Over time, he got better at his, and he even got to know Lily's colleagues. The one with the mossy scarf was Sykkuno, and the silent one was simply called Corpse. They were nice, he supposed. But they never had any other connections other than just people-who-worked-together vibes. 

"George! We have a new batch coming in!"

He was jerked out his trance by Lily, who was struggling to open the doors of the infirmary. He ran over, forcing the heavy wooden doors wider. 

"Where's Sykkuno and Corpse?" 

"They've gone to help. A wild magic bomb went off, and the runes we had stockpiled backfired." Lily pulled on gloves and a mask, her magic warming up. Tiny twinkles of light blinked to life, zipping around the room and retrieving potions, bandages and opening windows. 

George dashed around, activating the protection wards and refreshing the older ones. He looked up when Sykkuno ran in, a wave of fresh dirt buoying a patient into a bed. George approached, carrying equipment. 

He cut open the sleeves and pant legs, revealing the magic burns. Dark blue mottled his skin, and blue electricity sparked over the melted skin. George cast a simple spell, a thin ring of runes appearing on his goggles. He flipped it down, and the extent of the damage was revealed. The wild magic had overridden the soldier's own magic, burning the veins. 

Magic wouldn't solve it, but they still had to draw out the wild magic. George looked around for a rune, and picked one up, checking the carving. Healing. He took a deep breath and touched the wound, willing his fingers to stick to the intrusive magic. It didn't come easy. It crackled and snapped, angry at being ripped away from its host. George lifted the dark purple magic and pressed it into the rune, moulding the magic to the rune. Reluctantly, it did, and the stone flashed a soft yellow. 

George laid the stone on the now angry yellow burns, drawing the sigil. The stone flashed, and yellow seeped out, knitting the wounds together. He did another quick check to make sure there weren't any bullets before moving onto the next. 

And so it went on. 

Floods of injured people, most victims of the wild magic bombs, crashed into the infirmary. George's fingers were going numb from touching wild magic, but quick dips into regeneration potions fixed that. 

It was only when the sunrise tinged the horizon pink then did they finally get any rest. The soldiers had finally fallen asleep, and George excused himself, promising that the afternoon shift would be his.

He stripped off his doctor's coat and faltered. His fingers had dark purple blotches on them. He turned them around, pulling a shred of magic over the blemish. It cleared, and George stumbled to his room. The light was still on in the Ace's tower when George finally sank into an exhausted sleep. 

"George!! Get up, get up, it's your shift." Lily shook him awake, and George mumbled acknowledgement, rolling over in his bed. "Now!"

"Okay, okay! I'm up, I'm up." George rubbed his eyes and reached for his goggles, shielding his damaged eyes. "God...what time is it?"

"Eleven a.m. in the morning."

George glanced at his clock and felt like crying. He had only gotten five hours of sleep. 

He donned his coat slowly, hesitating at the gloves. He didn't need them. He was already out of touch with magic as it is, and an extra layer would just hinder him. He pocketed the gloves though. Just in case. 

When he got into the infirmary, he found out that there had been another influx of patients. He was so tired of working in the infirmary that he jumped at the chance to deliver shield runes and food and medicines to soldiers on the battlefield. 

George had never seen a battlefield before. The closest he got was his ruined village, and he hadn't even known that until recently. He distributed the food among the soldiers and chatted with a few of them. 

That was when he heard it. 

Over the whistle of a bomb, there was a high moan, floating on the wind to his trained ears. He turned and dated over no man's land, ignoring the shouts. There was a fallen soldier. On his way, he summoned his magic, but the lingering wild magic shredded through the illusions. Suddenly, he saw something silver soar through the air in a graceful arc, landing by the body of the soldier. It was ticking, and George had a wild, wild idea. 

It was more of madness, really. But George grabbed the bomb, ignoring how his hands turned numb the moment he touched it, and tossed it back towards enemy lines. It exploded midair, and George hooked his arms under the soldier's armpits, dragging him backwards. A few other soldiers jumped up, helping him drag the soldier over. 

"Help me. Bring me two bottles of regeneration potions and a roll of bandages." The soldiers hesitated. "Go!"

The soldiers bustled off, and George reached towards the soldier, but he recoiled. The soldier's armour was melted, and blue sparks bounced and jumped around the metled areas.

George bit his lip, looking at the discolouration of his hands. It had grown now, spreading past his fingertips and brushing his knuckles. 

Would the soldier mind? He had just been burnt, after all. George made up his mind, pulling on his gloves and removing the armour pieces. 

He cut open the soldier's - Purpled, it was Purpled - clothes, exposing his wounds. 

"He's lost blood!" George shouted, and he felt the body heat of two others leave him. Whistling arced overhead, and there was distant yelling. George shut all of that out. It didn't matter to him. His only responsibilty was to Purpled now, and no one else. 

There, in the trenches of war, George tended to his friend and his sparring partner. 

* * *

The Royals of the Spades Kingdom were at their wit's end. The kingdom was under siege, and even Sapnap's vast reservoirs of magic couldn't keep the shield up forever. Their options were to fight or flee, and they gathered for an emergency meeting.

"I say we fight. At least then, we'll take out some of their troops," Bad said, pointing at the real time map, pointing at the pink masses gathered on the field. 

"Yes, but my magic is already depleted. At this rate, we have about a week before the shield runs out, and even less before our food stores are empty! If we run, at least I can use the last of my magic to broadcast an evacuation notice and call on the wild magic to flood the city." Sapnap looked drained, his skin a jaundiced yellow and his eyes filmy with cataracts. He had been maintaining a sizeable shield over the whole kingdom for weeks now, and the magic that was interwoven with him was being pushed out forcibly. Dream wouldn't be surprised if Sapnap was using his life force to sustain it. 

Bad slammed his hand onto the table, disrupting the projection of the map slightly. "Which is exactly why we should fight! Techno is not on our side, but we have Diamond soldiers on our side! We can overpower them, we just need to plan!"

"No." Dream cut in. He took a deep breath. "We can't overpower them. Diamonds hasn't given us much reinforcements. Techno's invoked 'Blood for the Blood God'. We can't run. Not for long."

Sapnap inhaled sharply. "Which level is it on? When did you see it?" 

"I only saw on my most recent patrol, and he's already turned. I caught snippets of his conversation; there's some part of him that's still there, but..." Dream shrugged helplessly. Sapnap pursed his lips and cast his eyes up to the ceiling. 

"I'd wager..." Sapnap began, then shook his head. "No, taking into account the magic, and the magic he has..."

"What is 'Blood for the Blood God'?" George whispered to Dream. Bad heard them and leant in. 

"It's a spell Techno has, the only one in his arsenal," Bad explained. "It can track down anything, unless it's literally on another plane of existence. But the price to pay for it is blood. Techno will literally be driven crazy by his orcish side unless he draws blood from his target."

"It's only invoked in cases of extreme emergencies. I guess we count, huh?" Sapnap smiled wryly. "Okay. Since Dream has provided that lovely piece of information-"

"You're welcome, by the way."

"Our plans for holing up in here have been dashed to smithereens. Techno can and will break my shield once he progresses far enough."

"So we fight?" George asked.

Dream answered, his voice uncharacteristically grim. "Yes. Prepare yourself for what might very well be your last battle of your lives." 

* * *

Dream wasn't filled with that giddy excitement that came from raids. This wasn't some simple raid on a temple or dungeon. This was a bet, with hundreds, if not thousands of lives at stake. And some of those lives were his best friends. He pulled open the secret compartment behind his bookshelf, hefting his axe. It felt heavy in his hand, but it emitted a warmth that comforted him tremendously. 

"So how are you holding up?" 

Dream turned, finding George in the doorway. He had his goggles pushed up on his forehead, and he was fully kitted out in diamond armour. An enchanted axe hung at his side, and a shield peeked out from behind him.

"Oh I'm grand. How about you, King?"

George stepped forward, ignoring the jibe. Behind his goggles, his eyes narrowed. "You've got a weird vibe, Dream."

"What vibe? It's just battle jitters. Don't you have them?" Dream backed up against the table, sweeping papers onto the floor. 

"Actually, no. Somehow, I feel really at ease. But I came to tell you something." George stopped in front of Dream. "Don't you dare die. You hear me? That's a direct order from your king."

Dream smiled behind his mask. He could feel the magic of his being humming, taking in the order and weaving it into the fiber of his being. "Don't you worry your little crown. I don't plan on letting Techno kill me any time soon." he turned back to the bookshelf and slammed it shut, pointing at a purple book. "That's my favourite book. Give it a read some time, you might like it."

"You do know I'm colorblind, right?"

"You'll figure it out. Don't forget it, okay?" Dream patted George's head, which both of them knew annoyed George. "Now shoo! Your Ace has to prepare for battle."  


George huffed and left, leaving Dream to ponder his plan. It would likely result in some confusion, but that couldn't be helped. It was the only way this could be stopped. Quickly, he headed down to the armoury and the apothecary and retrieved the parts he needed, raising his head to gaze at the massive, translucent hemisphere surrounding the castle. A foghorn sounded, the single note hanging in the air, low and mournful. Dream stood, his grip tightening painfully on his axe. The shield had been brought down. 

* * *

Sapnap had absorbed the shield, and he was practically crackling with energy, his irises glowing a vivid orange and the scleras of his eyes a solid black. Fire was Sapnap's main element, and he had summoned every ounce of magic from his reservoirs. Patches of his skin had actually split, revealing rivers of orange coursing through his veins. The ground he stepped on cracked and hissed, all the moisture drawn out by the heat.

Bad had invoked his very own version of magic, and his eyes and halo were blindingly bright. He gripped an axe with the ease of a seasoned warrior, despite having no training in that area. 

Dream had pinned his poncho up, allowing for easier maneuverability. The axe he had was rippling with enchantments, although George felt that something was amiss with him. 

George stared up at the virulent purple sky, choked full of magical residue and ash. He stared at Techno's form advancing towards their ragged line of defense, swinging a diamond sword that could easily cleave them in half with a casual flick. And he stared as Dream broke rank, stepping forward. 

Techno's spell had progressed, and he looked terrifying, with blood splattered skin and tusks like scimitars erupting from the corners of his mouth. "Dream," Techno roared, his voice guttural. "Come and fight me, you coward!"

Dream continued walking until he reached the middle of no man's land. There, George watched as he tilted his head to the sky, as though he was praying.

Dream pointed his axe at Techno, who roared at the provocation and charged Dream. His troops poured over the field, taking up the cry.

The battle had begun.

Dream met Techno's first blow head on, sparks flying off their enchanted weapons. But George couldn't keep watching. He was plunged into battle, and he tried to wound, not kill. Beside him, Sapnap raked through the ranks with magical infernos, sending soldiers running back, flapping at their smouldering clothes. He cackled, his fingers smoking from the huge amount of magic he'd just unleashed. Bad worked his way through the enemies, his axe a blur of teal. Somehow, he seemed to be emitting a dark aura, and even the most battle hardened veterans hesitated before engaging in battle. 

Clearly, his allies had no qualms about hurting their friends. 

George settled into a rhythm, dodging blows on autopilot and parrying strikes. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his shirt, and his armour slipped slightly. He was pulled out of his pain-induced fog when Techno roared triumphantly. Dream was on the ground, and he wasn't moving.

The whole battlefield froze, watching as Techno swung his sword down. It whistled through the air, and at the last moment, Dream rolled to the side and staggered to his feet. He was in bad shape, and one of his legs was soaked through with red and bent in a sickening way. Techno didn't look much better, with his crown nowhere to be found, and several deep cuts gushing blood from his arms and legs. Techno growled and lunged at Dream, who darted away into the Forest. And suddenly, he was back, stumbling out from a cloud of purple particles. 

"Dream, you muffin! An ender pearl?" Bad gasped. Dream gave a quick thumbs up and he was gone in a puff of purple mist. The whole field watched with bated breath as Techno and Dream crossed blades. Dream didn't have much in terms of attack power, but he had speed and various items to help him. However, Techno kept predicting Dream's trajectory with terrifying accuracy, and he moved with surprising nimbleness despite his hulking stature and his wounds. 

Dream stumbled slightly on his latest teleport, and almost was caught by Techno's gleeful swipe. He threw another pearl and disappeared, appearing on top of a tree.

"Coward! Come down and fight!" Techno snarled, headbutting the tree. The wood splintered with a sickening crack, and slowly, the tree fell.

In a moment of madness, George wondered if Dream was going to levitate above the tree. But he fell with the tree, landing like a cat. He tossed another pearl, but Techno caught it and smashed it onto the ground in front of him. In a starburst of purple, Dream was pulled in by the teleport, straight onto Techno's sword. 

Dream staggered backwards, his hands grasping at his chest, and George swore he could hear the sound as it pulled out, all the way across the field. A quiet sound, like a key sliding out of a lock. He looked up, hearing Techno laugh maniacally. The spell was completed, and he was receiving a massive boost of endorphins for that. 

Then the crater exploded, and the earth collapsed in on itself. A sonic boom sent a wave of heat exploding out from the epicenter, and it charred the trees in the immediate area. Sapnap threw up a hasty shield, blocking most of the heat from burning everyone to a crisp. George dashed for the hole, seeing Techno unconscious by the side. There was a jagged crack in the crater, and George looked over the edge. It dipped into a ravine, and at the very bottom, a river of lava bubbled sluggishly.

"DREAM!!" George screamed. 

* * *

The day of the funeral was a sunny one, a factor that George found extremely unfair. He fiddled with the black jacket he had put on, purposely avoiding looking at the garden. That was where the funeral was held. There was a knock on his door, and Sapnap stepped in. He had bandages wrapped around his arms and fingers where his own outbursts of magic had burnt him, and his face still had healing salve slathered on it. 

"You ready George?" Sapnap asked quietly. 

George stepped out of the room and threw a backwards glance towards Dream's tower. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The funeral was a solemn affair, with hushed conversations around an empty coffin. They couldn't find a body, and the lava had removed all traces of Dream. George couldn't help glancing at the coffin. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, and excused himself.

He walked through the halls of the castle, heading towards Dream's tower. As he pushed the door open, he glanced over at the bookshelf. Nothing was amiss. He stared at his wrist sadly, imagining the golden thread that had wrapped around his wrist until recently. He glanced up again, and did a double take. For a moment, the bright yellow threads seem to cling to his vision, and George could clearly see them, draped around the tower. Then, as quickly as it started, it faded away. But George had seen one thing. A bright blue book, outlined in gold. The very one that Dream had pointed out to him; he was sure of it. 

Slowly, he wrapped his hands around the spine and pulled it open. He flicked through the pages, hoping to see something fall out, or something written in Dream's handwriting (though he'd never seen it before). Nothing.

It was just a book about a place where lava flowed instead of water, and everything was dead. George put the book back in with a shudder. Why did Dream point this book out to him?

He closed his eyes again, trying his best to visualize the annoyingly bright yellow colour again. He opened his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.

The whole tower was crisscrossed with yellow threads, connecting everything in the tower together. There were so many that they actually gave off light, like some sort of miniature sun. George looked at the book again, and at the yellow thread connecting it to a stone in the brickwork. Slowly, he pulled it out again. This time, there was a visible change. The threads rustled, and they rearranged themselves into a glimmering staircase, straight into the dark wooden ceiling high above the ground. 

'It's like a staircase to heaven.' George thought, bemused. He touched one of the threads carefully, then leant onto them. They held, so George started climbing. After a while, he looked down at the floor below him. Everything looked like they belonged in a dollhouse, and George's hands started shaking. But he climbed all the way to the top, his head bumping against the dark brown wood. George pushed at it gently, then harder as he felt it give under his push slightly. Finally, he heaved against it and the trapdoor opened, depositing George onto the top unceremoniously. He got up, dusting himself off and grumbling. 

"Oh my..." George's breath hitched as he looked around, turning in tiny steps. His foot landed on something metallic, and he looked down. A broken latch dangled sadly from the trapdoor. And beyond that, Sapnap and Bad walking in, just tiny figures in the distance. Quietly, George shut the trapdoor and fiddled with the latch, locking it clumsily. Having done so, he looked up again, at all of the treasures Dream had stored. 

It was a tiny room, but there were random items everywhere. A pair of golden boots, frost curling from the intricate enchantment runes on it. A fishing rod, for some reason. An armour stand, with a full set of what looked like some dark brown material, rippling with purple enchantments. A crossbow leaning against a dark blue chest. The magic in this room was palpable, making the hairs on the back of George's neck stand up straight. A cloak was draped over an enderchest, a childish picture of a single cloud in blue sky painted on it. George reached out and touched it, rubbing the silky smooth fabric against his cheek. The cloak rippled and before his very eyes, disappeared- only, he could still feel it, pressed against his cheek. 

"An invisibility cloak," George whispered. These things were the stuff of legends. Everything in this room was, actually. So how did Dream get them? The answer came to him like a bolt from the blue. He was a scavenger, and he raided dungeons. These were probably trinkets that caught his eye. George could recognise some of the items, like the ice boots. 

He looked down again, checking if Sapnap and Bad had left. He scrambled down the ladder and left the tower, closing the door gently behind him. The sky was already dark, so he headed to his room. There, on his bed, was a piece of paper, neatly folded. He sat down and picked the tiny parcel up, unfolding it slowly. A sliver of a gem fell out, glimmering in the warm glow of the lamp. 

George picked it up and turned it around slowly. It was crystal clear, and not much bigger than a coin. It was the colour of honey, and when George held it up to his eye, he saw vague shadows walking around that clearly weren't there when he removed the gem from his eye.

He rubbed the stone with his thumb and fell asleep like that, his hand still holding onto the stone. 


End file.
